Mummy Dearest
by Gomes
Summary: [SBR] A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever. xXChapNineXx
1. A Bowl of Tension for Breakfast

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : Okay, this is my third Profiler fic, and you won't expect anything but SBR - I can't help it if I'm a romantic realist. evilgrin Please read and review - it fuels my thirst to write.  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 1. ----------------  
  
VCTF, Atlanta  
  
Bailey Malone sat in the Command Center alone, reviewing some cases. Naturally, he was the first one to arrive in the morning - provided that he had actually left the VCTF - so he patiently awaited the rest of the team.  
  
George was the second to arrive and bid his boss hello, to which Bailey raised his coffee mug and smiled. John and Grace followed suite, followed by Nathan. They all sat in their respective seats; George had already busied himself in front of his laptop, while Grace and Nathan were talking over some coffee and doughnuts. John had his head resting on the table, and Bailey shook his head, suspecting another late night for the ex-cop.  
  
"Anyone hear from Sam?" Grace asked, looking at her watch.  
  
"We all know who she's with." Bailey muttered into his mug and downed the rest of his coffee, wishing that it was scotch instead of Java. He had been noticeably apathetic recently, and Grace had her reservations as to why.  
  
As if on cue, Samantha Waters entered the building, her cheeks a rosy hue and her shirt slightly un-tucked. She walked in buttoning up the last button of her suit and combed her hand through her hair, trying to look presentable. "Sorry I'm late, I overslept." She said, apologetically as she scanned the room: John still had his eyes closed, Grace was finishing up her doughnut, Nathan was looking over George's shoulder, who was enamored with his latest program and Bailey seemed to be brooding, entranced by his empty mug. Sam looked over expectantly at her boss, mentor and best-friend. "Bail?"  
  
He looked up and smiled warmly at her, and Grace noticed his reaction.  
  
Just then, Nick 'Coop' Cooper breezed in, walking over to Sam's side and capturing her lips with his. "Sorry to disturb you guys," he said to the team, but then directed his speech to Sam, "but you forgot your watch on my bedside table." He laughed, and handed her the watch.  
  
"You could have given it to me later." Sam said, blushing.  
  
"It gives me an excuse to come and see you, and invite you to lunch." Coop teased, and Sam let out a nervous giggle.  
  
Bailey bit his lip, and Grace was the only one to notice his eyes grow dark. "Excuse me." He got up abruptly and headed to his office. Once inside, he paced with his hands clenched into fists. He took deep breaths, and tried to calm himself down. He turned swiftly when he heard his office door close.  
  
"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you, Bailey?" Grace asked, leaning against the door.  
  
"Lack of sleep, bureau always on my ass, budget cuts. . ." Bailey prattled on, hoping that Grace would get distracted and not press the real issue at hand.  
  
"Really? And everything seems to erupt whenever Coop enters the building." Grace observed.  
  
Bailey raised his eyebrow. "Well then, he must be the trigger." He replied sarcastically, stopping right in front of Grace.  
  
Grace held her ground. "Do you have a problem with Sam dating Coop?" Grace asked, direct as always.  
  
Bailey took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah I do." He said softly, but then raised his voice. "This is a building of business, not a dating service. I don't care what anybody does in their personal lives, but once they are on the clock, this," he pointed to Sam walking Coop to the door, hand-in-hand, "is unacceptable."  
  
Grace looked at Bailey defiantly, and he began to fear that she would press the matter further. She nodded, seeming to accept his answer, turned on her heel and exited his office. Bailey waited a few moments to try to recompose himself, then returned to the Command Center. "Okay people, enough interruptions," he looked at Sam, "back to work."  
  
"Someone got scolded by the principle." John whispered in Sam's ear, causing her to chuckle. Bailey shot them both a warning glance, which only caused more laughter from both agents. Soon, Grace joined in the laughter as did Nathan.  
  
Bailey slammed his fist on the table. "This is not a bloody daycare, we have work to do and I don't think it's in my job description to baby-sit." All agents eyes grew wide; Bailey had a habit of losing his temper, but never directed at one of them, let alone the whole team. He closed his eyes wearily, and stood up. "Just take a break - George call us if anything pressing occurs." He turned to go to his office, but stopped short. Sam could tell he was battling with some inner conflict, and she ached to comfort him. Bailey continued his path to his office, slamming the door behind me.  
  
"Menopause?" John offered, still stunned at Bailey's outburst.  
  
Sam nudged John in the ribs. "This is your fault, you know that." She smiled. She glanced back at Bailey's office. "Let me go talk to him."  
  
Grace grabbed hold of her arm. "Leave him, Sam. I don't think you can help him with this one."  
  
"Why?" Sam sat back down. "Am I the problem?" She said in jest, but the silence confirmed her doubts. "It's me?" She said, with disbelief. "What did I do?"  
  
Grace sighed. "Look, Bailey should address this, not me or anyone else here."  
  
"What's wrong, Grace." Sam demanded.  
  
"It's you seeing Coop." John blurted out. There was an awkward pause. "What?" He asked, off of Grace's warning.  
  
"My personal life bothers Bailey." Sam said, in a monotone voice. "What, is he afraid that I'll get distracted from one of his precious cases? That I can't profile because all I have is Coop on my mind?!" Sam began to overreact.  
  
"Uh, sorry to interrupt, but someone should call Bailey." George said aloud over his feverish typing. All agents looked at eachother. George waited expectantly and then sighed. "I guess I was forcibly volunteered." He mumbled as he jogged over to Bailey's office. He knocked once, and entered. "Boss?"  
  
Bailey sat idly at his desk, elbows resting on the chestnut-colored surface. His left hand held a glass of scotch while his right hand was massaging the bridge of his nose. "I lost my temper out there." He stated and then looked up pathetically.  
  
George gently removed the glass of scotch from Bailey's weak grip and placed it on the mini-bar. "C'mon, we have some disturbing news." George started for the door then stopped short. Without turning, he addressed Bailey, "look, we all understand that you have a lot going for you right now, what with budget cuts and your bosses not making it easier, so don't worry about what happened earlier." George finally turned around and smiled honestly.  
  
Bailey was a little more relieved as he made his way back to the command center. "Okay, what do you have, Georgie?" He asked, casually, trying to avoid the concerned gazes of his team.  
  
"Okay, this isn't our usual type of case, but there is an alarming number of disappearances throughout New York, mostly concentrated in the Brooklyn area." George said, pulling up a map on the screen.  
  
John shrugged. "So what, we don't deal with missing persons."  
  
"The thing is, three bodies were found, and another person was reported missing today." George finally looked up. "The Police Department senses a pattern, and specifically asked for the VCTF." He printed out a sheet. "He wants this to end before anymore victims surface."  
  
Bailey took the paper and read it over. He nodded and handed it to Sam without making eye-contact. His eyes flew up when Sam grasped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He didn't move, nor make any facial expression - he just stared into her crystal blue eyes as all noises melted in the background. Finally he dropped his gaze, and proceeded to brief the other agents. "Okay, so far all the victims are males, so we are concentrating on a list of male missing persons in the last week or so, in the Brooklyn area."  
  
"The first victim found is Corey Jones, originally from Boston. 45 years old, 5'3", 132 pounds. Cause of death is still unknown; they're saving the bodies for you, Grace." George grinned.  
  
"I have all the luck." Grace retorted.  
  
"Second victim," George continued, "is James Yule of San Francisco. 32 years old, 5'8", 163 pounds. He was in a car accident when he was a child, and loss the use of his left arm - it was severed in the crash." George finally pulled up the last victim's file. "And lastly there's Harry Klunk, originally from New York City. 38 years old, 6'1 and 310 pounds." George looked up. "A little on the heavy side." He shrugged.  
  
Sam looked at all three pictures. "They don't look alike, they all measure and weigh differently, different ages, and all come from different parts of the country . . . I don't know. Are we even sure these bodies are done by the same person?" Sam asked, still staring at the screen.  
  
George shrugged. "These were the three victims that the police sent over to me." He typed a little then addressed the team. "Autopsies haven't been done, but all the victims were found the same way." The team looked at him expectantly. "All three of them were found at the same time, in an abandoned warehouse."  
  
"So?" John asked, though it was more of a challenge.  
  
"Inside the warehouse, there was a concrete tomb of some sort. A large rectangular prism, box-like and hollowed out, in which the bodies were dumped in, one on top of the other."  
  
Sam stood up and walked to the screen. Grace watched Bailey as his eyes followed her form, and she could feel the love that this man possessed for his best-friend. She was sure that Bailey lusted after Sam, but it went beyond that: there was love, respect and affection as well. She sighed, as long as Coop was in the picture, Bailey would never achieve true happiness.  
  
"Were there any markings?" Sam asked, looking at George.  
  
"No." George shook his head. "Why?"  
  
"Well," She tucked her hair behind her ears. "maybe it's symbolic. A lot of religions and cultures believe in burial in tombs."  
  
"Like what?" John asked, perplexed as usual.  
  
"Well, the Imperial Tombs of China, or the Thirteen Tombs of the Ming Dynasty could be a lead. During the Ming Dynasty, established by the Han Chinese, people believed that their dead continued living, similarly to the way we do on Earth." Sam stated. "They wanted to make sure that the dead were comfortable for the after-life." Sam shrugged. "Christianity - Catholicism to be more precise can't be ruled out either, because Jesus was buried in a tomb. Of course, the circumstances were different, but the symbolism is still present."  
  
"So," Bailey interrupted, "I think we can rule out the Ming Dynasty and Catholicism."  
  
Sam raised her eyebrow defiantly. "Why?"  
  
Bailey noted her reaction. "Because the Ming Dynasty royalty were buried in separate tombs, each connected by a road called the Sacred Path, if I'm not mistaken." Bailey smiled smugly.  
  
Sam walked up slowly to Bailey. "Oh, but you are wrong; it was called the Sacred Way." She huffed. "And what about Catholicism?"  
  
"If the suspect is so religious, they wouldn't be killing. It's against the Ten Commandments. Why go to all the trouble to recreate Jesus' burial, or something like it, when you disobey the Lord's wishes anyway?" Bailey challenged Sam.  
  
Sam stepped closer to Bailey. "Well, maybe in her mind, the killing is justified." She sat down on her chair, and turned towards the screen. "Maybe God spoke to her."  
  
"Why do you think it's a woman?" Grace asked, intrigued.  
  
Sam paused, and bit her lower lip, a mannerism that drove Bailey crazy with love. "I don't know, since they are all male victims, I have a gut feeling that it's a female killer." Sam looked around the table for support.  
  
"How can a woman take on a man? I understand for the short guy, but what about the 300 pounder?" John argued.  
  
Sam shrugged. "I guess. . . but there are many ways to overpower men these day."  
  
"Sure : sex, food and more sex." Grace quipped, and the two women shared a laugh.  
  
"Hey, our egos are fragile." Nathan joked.  
  
Bailey rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we'll still keep our minds open to suggestions." Bailey said, humouring Sam. He stood up and looked at his team. "So, I say it's worth a look. George, make reservations at the cheapest hotel in Brooklyn, and we'll take the VCTF jet."  
  
"What? Cheapest?" John almost shrieked. "I don't work well unless I'm comfortable. I demand at least five stars." He crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Fine." Bailey agreed, to a rather surprised team. "And should I send you the bill care of VCTF or just mail it to your home address?" Bailey remarked casually.  
  
"Okay, I got a couple of rooms at the Wellington Hotel. It's not too bad, and well in our budget." George said.  
  
"Okay, meet up back at the VCTF in about two hours, and we'll decide from there." Bailey headed into his office, and looked out his window through the blinds. He watched his team discuss a few things, then scatter, each going their respective ways. He watched Sam head to her office.  
  
Sam stopped before entering her office. She sensed a pair of eyes on her, so she slowly looked over her shoulder. Her gaze fell upon Bailey. She hurt for him; she could tell he was going through some rough times. She continued to her office and picked up the phone.  
  
Calling Coop, no doubt. He thought bitterly. He changed into a pair of black jeans, put on his leather jacket and grabbed his motorcycle helmet. A little drive, and then I'll head home to pack. He mentally made his schedule for the day and headed to the parking lot.  
  
She watched him put on his riding gear and head to the parking lot. She wanted to go up and console him but she was afraid of rejection. He had become so distant towards her, that she was scared he would push her further away if approached. She was also terrified of what her feelings could do to him. Sure, she cared about Coop, but nothing compared to what she felt for Bailey, but she would never let the love she felt take him away - willingly or not - from her. She would have to settle for Coop. Until Jack was caught, no one could know of her harbored feelings, for she knew Jack would kill Bailey. . . and she wouldn't know how to live without him. 


	2. Must Have Been Fate

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : I know, I know . . . it always starts out really slow, and then speeds up way too fast at the end. Hey, I'm still working on my momentum, okay?! grin Enjoy!  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 2. ----------------  
  
Hartsfield International Airport, Atlanta  
  
John mumbled as the four team members exited the taxi. "Talk about first class service." He grumbled sarcastically, and took his bag from the trunk. "What happened to the jet?" John whined, while Nathan stepped out and held the door open for Sam. He went to retrieve his bag, as did Sam. She spied Bailey's overnight bag, and picked it up, somehow feeling the warmth of Bailey just by holding it.  
  
Bailey stepped out of the front seat after having paid the driver. "Keep the change, you deserve it for putting up with him." Bailey told the taxi driver, referring to John's bad mood. The taxi driver smiled, and drove off.  
  
Sam walked over to Bailey and handed him his bag. He smiled briefly, then headed for the departures. "We have less than twenty minutes to catch our plane." He said, walking briskly through the clusters of passengers dispersed in every manner, creating some sort of human traffic zone. The other three agents followed behind.  
  
They reached the gate, and boarded the plane. They managed to get four seats facing each other. Sam and Bailey both claimed a window seat, thus sitting across from eachother. Nathan sat beside Sam, and John plopped down beside Bailey.  
  
"Thank goodness I'm not in 'coach'." John said with disgust.  
  
"Stop you're complaining, man. If you behave yourself, maybe they'll let you get a tour in the cockpit." Nathan laughed.  
  
"And if I'm extra good, I'll get to wear the captain's hat?" John added sarcastically. He pressed the service button and a flight attendant stopped by.  
  
"What can I get for you gentlemen?" She asked, exposing her unnatural white smile to John.  
  
"Coffee." Bailey answered, and the others just nodded.  
  
"I think I'm blind." John said, squinting.  
  
"Does anyone know why Grace backed out?" Sam asked, scanning the three men.  
  
"There was a little misunderstanding, and the bodies were shipped to Atlanta. Depending on the time it takes to do the autopsy and how important her presence is needed in Brooklyn, Grace opted to stay and keep George company. He'll communicate with us via his technology." Bailey stated.  
  
"Okay, so what are our duties?" Nathan asked, always the first willing to get down to business.  
  
"Well," Bailey paused as the flight attendant came back with their coffee, "thanks." He told her politely, forcing a smile. He placed his coffee in the cup holder and stood up. He stepped over John's feet and reached into the over-head compartment.  
  
Sam admired his body. While his arms were stretched, his suit was pressed tightly against his body giving her a lovely view of his athletic build. Her eyes roamed from his muscular legs, past his hardened torso, up to his strong arms and neck. She took a deep breath, trying to cool herself down.  
  
Bailey sat back down and handed each agent a file. "Okay, Sam and I are going to interview the wife of Corey Jones." Despite not wanting to get close to Sam, Bailey didn't want to let her out of his site. He never knew when Jack would un-expectantly show up, so he didn't want to take that chance. Besides, even though he wanted to put distance between them, he couldn't stand to be parted from her. It was like his mind and heart were in a deep confrontation, and right now, he was sure his heart was winning.  
  
Sam raised her eyebrow. She figured Bailey was still mad at her, for whatever reason, so she wasn't expecting to be paired with him. She thought that her boss would have partnered her up with John. She shrugged; perhaps she could spend some 'alone time' with Bailey, and find out what was truly bothering him. She studied his face, wanting to dive deep within his soul, and offer whatever aid he desired. Her eyes fell to his lips, and hers parted slowly, imagining the feeling that would occur if his came into contact with hers. She held her breath, as she tried to feel the sensation of his cool breath on her skin, licking, caressing, devouring. Her eyes half closed, she continued to memorize the form his lips took whenever he spoke, how he inconspicuously wet the bottom lip with his tongue when he got nervous. Her thoughts were interrupted when Nathan passed his hand in front of her face.  
  
"We thought we had lost you for a second." He smiled, slightly concerned. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah . . ." Sam said, somewhat in a daze. She looked out the window, at the clouds passing by. "So, we're going to see Mrs. Jones." She asked Bailey, who only nodded in response. She turned her attention to John. "And you?"  
  
John smiled. "You really zoned out, huh?" He chuckled. "I'm going to meet up with James Yule's sister and Nathan is going to see if he can find anything on Klunk by meeting with his daughter."  
  
"Estranged daughter . . ." Nathan corrected. "And I feel I have the most interesting one. C'mon, imagine the family secrets? I mean, being estranged could harbor feelings of resentment that could lead to revenge and even murder!"  
  
"Must everything be a competition?" John asked to a grinning Nathan.  
  
"Hey, we all have ways to unwind."  
  
They remained silent for the rest of the trip. Finally, a nasal female voice over the intercom boomed, ceasing John and Nathan's argument. "Please fasten your seatbelts - we will be arriving in Brooklyn very shortly. Thank you for flying United Airlines and have a nice day."  
  
John cringed as the flight attendant walked by again, and flashed her excruciatingly white smile. "I'm sure when I'm about to die, *that* will be the last thing I see!"  
  
"Just remember, don't go towards the bright light." Sam muttered, causing a grunt from John. She smiled, and briefly glanced at Bailey - something she had been doing on and off during the course of the flight. She noticed the corner of his lips slightly curved upward. Maybe some time away from the office will do him some good. Sam smiled, less at her joke but more because of Bailey's reaction.  
  
***  
  
JFK International Airport, New York  
  
The plane stopped with a small jolt, and the team got up to leave. John groaned as he stretched, his arms dangerously close to Bailey's face. The older man raised his eyebrow, almost daring the ex-cop to come into contact with him. John's arm narrowly missed Bailey's face and Sam stifled a chuckle. Nathan was the first to disembark the plane closely followed by John. Bailey waited for Sam to go, and unconsciously placed his hand on the small of her back.  
  
Sam leaned in, wishing to have more contact with her mentor. She scolded herself as soon as she realized what she was doing, and quickened her pace; losing contact with Bailey's hand.  
  
The agents reunited outside the airport where Bailey rented a car. He pulled up to the other agents in a black SUV. Sam took the passenger seat, while John and Nathan sat in the back. After Bailey finished putting their bags in the trunk, he climbed into the car and buckled up. "It's a bit of a ride; I have to take the Belt Parkway, and we'll head to the Hotel from there." Bailey told the agents in the back. He grinned at John. "My apologies for the limo service getting cancelled."  
  
John rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Sam fidgeted, and tried to look straight ahead, but her eyes kept diverting towards Bailey. She tried to admire him discreetly, from her peripheral vision. He's so handsome. She thought. She kept imagining herself in his arms, and she suddenly craved one of his patented hugs.  
  
After forty minutes of driving, Bailey pulled to the shoulder of the road. He took out a pamphlet and looked it over. The car was silent so he glanced in the rear-view mirror: Nathan and John were fast asleep, with their heads back. He glanced over at Sam and noticed that she too was catching up on some sleep. Her head was pressed against the window and a few stray strands of hair fell across her face. Bailey reached over and gently brushed them away from her face. His hand lingered, cupping her delicate beauty until she began to stir. Bailey quickly returned his attention to the pamphlet in hand.  
  
"What's going on?" Sam asked sleepily. It was odd to note, but something jarred her out of her sleep, yet it was not un-welcomed. She had opened her eyes with a rather comforting feeling. "Have we reached there yet?" She asked looking around.  
  
"Nah, I think George made a mistake." Bailey said handing Sam the pamphlet. "Wellington is located in Manhattan. We're heading for Brooklyn."  
  
"Is it that much out of our way?" Sam asked, staring straight into Bailey's eyes. She found herself drowning in his deep stare. Neither agents spoke for a very long time, instead they held each other's gaze. They were each trying to decipher the other's emotions that were blazing in their eyes.  
  
Bailey unconsciously leaned forward as did Sam. Suddenly, their world of fantasy was cut short when a loud snore came from the back. Bailey turned his head and looked at his two agents still sound asleep. "My money's on John." He remarked playfully.  
  
Sam let out a small laugh, for she was still rather disoriented due to the event that had just transpired or almost-transpired. How far would it have gone? Was it a 'moment' thing, or did he really want to kiss me? Did he just lean in because he lost balance or . . . " She asked herself as she leaned back in the chair. She glanced outside and observed the sunny meadows that adorned the Belt Parkway.  
  
"I think we should just look for another place to stay." Bailey started, and gave George a call on his cell. "Georgie, hey." He paused. "How's Grace? Mm-hmm. Yeah, listen, I need a hotel address, closest one possible." Bailey let out a laugh. "Yeah, thanks for telling me that Wellington was located in Manhattan." Another pause and he glanced at Sam. "Yeah, I want to remain in Brooklyn. What about the Comfort Inn? I heard that it's reasonable, and besides, if we need to be in Manhattan, it's not a long subway ride." Bailey bid George farewell and turned his cell off.  
  
Sam looked back at Bailey and noticed that he had made himself a little more comfortable for the drive. His jacket was off and the sleeves of his sweater were rolled up. She admired his build, and the old sweater gently hugged his defined muscles. She propped her elbow on the arm rest, and leaned her head, against the window in an effort to get comfortable again. "Next time, let's get a Winnebago!" She joked, moving around.  
  
Bailey smiled. "Here." He leaned back and picked up his spring jacket from the back-seat. He turned it inside out, so that the soft part would add comfort, and folded it in half. "Make-shift pillow." He stated, handing it to Sam. "It's still another half-hour so you might as well join those two in Dreamland."  
  
Sam thanked him and placed the jacket against the window. She leaned against it, and inhaled Bailey's scent. It was of a strong, masculine odor, complemented by spice and cigar memories. She fell asleep with a soft smile on her face.  
  
***  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Sam was the first to wake up, still in the SUV. She glanced beside her to find the driver's seat vacated. She turned her head and noticed John and Nathan were still sleeping. Looking outside, she realized that they were parked right in front of the Comfort Inn. She tried to open the door, but found it to be locked; even Bailey's door was locked. Leave it to him to be over-protective. She commented, but was touched none the less. She stepped out, locking the door behind her, and headed inside. Once there, she saw Bailey arguing with the receptionist.  
  
"What? We booked four rooms, not two!" He barked.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry sir, but there must have been an error when your reservations were processed. It doesn't happen often." The young receptionist tried to explain, though she seemed a little frightened by Bailey.  
  
"At least can we have three rooms?" He asked. He was worried about Sam having to share a room with one of the men, for he knew that he would be the lucky one picked. And he knew there was a fine line between pleasure and agony. It would be heaven to be so close to her, but hell to know that she didn't share the same feelings.  
  
"Sir." Finally, the hotel manager came by, noticing his young receptionist's distress. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but at the moment, we have no vacancies. I can assure you that this matter will be corrected - we'll reserve the next available room for you. To accept our apologies, we offer you and your partners a free continental breakfast during your stay." The hotel manager tried to lighten the misunderstanding.  
  
Bailey opened his mouth to tell the manager off but Sam cut him off. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you." She smiled at a surprised Bailey.  
  
"Here are your keys, Miss." The young receptionist handed both keys to Sam, completely avoiding Bailey's gaze.  
  
Once back at the car, Bailey unlocked his side and unlocked the rest of the locks. Sam got in and buckled up. "You didn't have to be so mean!" Sam warned. "She's just doing her job. . . at least we four don't have to share one room."  
  
"What?" Nathan asked and nudged John to wake as well.  
  
"There's been a little mishap, so we all have to bunk in twos." Bailey stated and drove into the underground parking lot.  
  
"Hey, I don't mind, do you?" John asked Nathan.  
  
"Sounds good, roomy." They laughed.  
  
Bailey's eyes grew wide, but he kept them on the road. He felt Sam glance at him but didn't want to look back at her. He was scared to see a repulsed look upon her face. They parked the car and headed up to their room on the fourth floor.  
  
Sam watched John and Nathan enter their room and turned to Bailey. She let out a small smile and unlocked their door. "Do you want to be in charge of the key?" She asked, dangling it in front of him.  
  
"Nah, you keep it." He said lightly. "I'll probably just lose it." He waited for her to enter, and followed. He sighed with relief to find two double beds in the room, a door leading to the bathroom in the corner, and a small kitchenette opposite. There was a large window with a tacky peach- coloured lace curtain. He walked over and looked out, admiring the scenery. He turned around to find Sam standing awkwardly near the entrance. "Sam, if this is weird for you, I can go to John and Nathan's room and sleep on the floor, or something." He tried to accommodate things for her.  
  
Sam shrugged, brushing the idea off. "I can't ask you to do that." She sat on the bed closest to the door. "Besides, I trust you Bail." She said sincerely.  
  
"Thanks." He said softly and the two held a powerful gaze, each conveying a message of love, but the other too blind to decipher it. Their stare was disturbed by John and Nathan entering the room.  
  
"Man! You guys have a better room than we do!" Nathan complained and checked the bathroom. "Hey! They have a tub!"  
  
"What?" John squawked. "We only have a shower stall."  
  
Bailey peered into their room and let out a pure laugh, causing Sam to smile. "Hope you guys have sweet dreams tonight!" He chuckled then put his hands up in defense. "Hey, you guys chose the room, it's not my fault there's only one bed."  
  
John and Nathan lingered in Sam and Bailey's room for a bit, both trying to convey the messages that they wanted to switch rooms. "Sorry guys, I'm not giving up the tub." Sam smiled, and ushered them out, through the joining door.  
  
"We'll meet in the lobby in thirty minutes." Bailey called through the closed door. "Enough time for me to have a shower." He said, draping a pair of pants over his shoulder. He ventured into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him.  
  
Sam stared at the closed door, then stared at the beds. She was fighting an inner battle of wanting to switch rooms just so she could feel his body heat next to her, but too scared that her feelings would spill out, ruining their special friendship forever. He didn't make any moves to switch rooms either. She sighed and turned on the television, whilst awaiting Bailey to finish with the bathroom. She leaned against the headboard after having toed off her shoes. Stretching her legs, she flipped through the numerous channels.  
  
"Hey, we have satellite!" Came John's voice from the next room. Sam shook her head and smiled. "Go back, go back, you missed the game!"  
  
Sam raised the volume on the television, drowning out the two agents next door. She stopped at the local news.  
  
""". . . and the suspect is still at large. So far, three bodies have been found but the missing person's list has yet to see an end. People are becoming frantic with worry and the Police Department is swarmed with missing person calls. The PD asks that citizens only call if a person has gone missing for more than 24 hours . . ."""  
  
Sam switched the channel to another news station.  
  
""". . . and in other news, Brooklyn's famed museum will be re-opening it's Egyptian display at a special inauguration this afternoon. Among those attending will be Valerie Klunk who has donated a large sum to the exhibition. Now, we turn to the sports . . ."""  
  
Sam turned the television off just as Bailey exited the bathroom. "It's all yours." He stated, passing a towel feverishly through his hair, in an attempt to dry it. He was clothed in his suit-pants with a white sleeveless- undershirt.  
  
Sam's eyes noted his white shirt and jacket draped over the back of a chair that was located in the corner of the room. Her eyes were glued to his powerful frame, his strong muscular back, and his immense arms. "Thanks." She said, a little distantly, one by Bailey's presence, and the other by the news. She walked past him and inhaled his clean scent. Stepping inside the bathroom, she cursed herself for acting like a childish little school- girl and forced herself to deal with her emotions in a professional manner. She shook her head, trying to put things into perspective. What is Valerie Klunk doing at the Museum? She was estranged, yes, but could she have killed her father, and donated the money - or part of the money. Maybe that was life-insurance." Sam arched her back as the cold water hit her body; she felt the need to cool down a bit. She stepped out of the shower, toweled off and dried her hair. She finally immerged seven minutes later, dressed in a deep burgundy jacket and skirt combo. "Bailey?"  
  
"Yeah?" Bailey looked up. He had been watching a little television and only recently started dressing. He was just finishing buttoning up his shirt.  
  
"I think we should check out the museum today." Sam said, sitting down on her bed. She stretched her legs out in front of her.  
  
Bailey's eyes wandered up her shapely legs, up to her thighs, slim waist, her beautiful breasts and finally stopping at her luscious lips. He blinked and tried to focus on her eyes. "Actually, George called while you were in the shower. He had tried to contact James Yule's sister but spoke with her husband. Yule's sister Keri will be in Brooklyn today, at the museum - "  
  
"- for the grand re-opening of the Egyptian exhibition?" Sam finished his sentence. "I just heard on the news that Valerie Klunk has made an interesting donation to the museum, for funding this display." She answered his question.  
  
Bailey nodded. "Two out of three, not bad. We'll catch Jones after the ceremony." He grabbed his suit jacket and held it over his shoulder. Opening the door, he waited for Sam to get her purse and walk out. He locked it and ventured towards the lobby. Both agents were quiet in the small elevator. They were both aware of this sexual tension between them, but each believed that it was only present from their own side. Bailey wet his bottom lip. He knew this was going to be a trying case, but he wasn't sure if outside or inside factors would be the cause. 


	3. Checking In to Awkwardness

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : I like crime-solving things, and crime-solving things take time; the scene has to be set, the plot must thicken, the characters must develop. . . and so on. So, bear with me and maybe it won't be as dull as you think. grin Feedback always welcome, despite my disgruntled state!  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 3. ----------------  
  
Bailey was leaning against the wall, one hand on his hip. He was watching the people walk by, as he and Sam awaited John and Nathan to surface. He glanced at Sam, and found her skimming through a tabloid magazine. "Sam." He sat down beside her. "What are your thoughts, so far?"  
  
Sam put the paper down and shrugged. "We have barely anything to go on. I mean, right now, it's the Exposition at the Museum, which seems to have attracted two out of the three people we want to meet."  
  
"Maybe we'll get lucky and Jones will show up." Bailey glanced at the tabloid paper. "It's already hit the papers." He pointed to an article on the top of the page. "Victims' Families Blame UFO Abduction Testing Gone Wrong."  
  
Sam rolled her eyes. "Any way to make an easy buck." Sam looked at her watch. "We have time until the ceremony - do you think we could stop by the scene where the three bodies were discovered?"  
  
Bailey looked at her intently. "Why, do you have a feel of the situation?" He asked her supportively. He nodded. "Provided those two stop primping themselves up. . . " He finished the last word as John and Nathan emerged from the elevator.  
  
"Sorry we're late, John was hogging the bathroom." Nathan muttered as the four agents went outside. They got into the rental car, and Bailey headed towards the crime scene.  
  
"Has Grace called with any news?" Sam asked.  
  
Bailey shook his head, his eyes still on the road. "She called, but the body shipment has been delayed. She was about to come over and do the autopsies here, but they promised her that they'd be shipped out by tonight."  
  
"Anyway, I think Grace is much more comfortable dissecting her subjects in the vicinity of her own lab." John quipped.  
  
"As comfortable as one could be." Nathan grimaced.  
  
***  
  
Goro Warehouse, Brooklyn  
  
The team reached the warehouse and filed in silently. It was dank and only a few stray ceiling lamps cast lights to guide them. Their footsteps echoed through the old creaky building, as they made their way to the crime scene. Bailey held up the yellow tape for Sam to walk under and then let it drop in front of John. "Thanks Bailey." The younger agent replied sarcastically, Bailey just grinned.  
  
Sam narrowed her eyes, as she approached the concrete tomb. She walked all the way up to it, and peered inside. Bailey, who had been looking around, stopped short and observed Sam. He longed to feel her body against his, to experience her energy as it mingled with his - to merely share life with her. He blinked a couple of times and willed himself to focus on the case.  
  
Sam leaned in and scraped her fingers along the inner wall of the concrete tomb. She took her flashlight out and lightened it up a bit, noting that there was no blood. "They weren't killed here, that's for sure." She remarked to no one in particular. She placed both hands on the edge of the tomb and lifted herself in. Stepping in the tomb, she noted that it was large enough to walk around a bit. Walking from side to side, she tried to get a feel of the situation that had transpired not a few days ago. Images of arms lifting, of a ladder, and of an elephant flashed through her head. Sam placed her hands over her eyes, trying to understand the cryptic messages that had just appeared to her. What do they have to do with these murders? She asked herself. She knelt down, and felt the base of the tomb. Scraping her fingers on the bottom, she brought them up to her nose and inhaled. "Bailey!" She called out, still crouched down.  
  
Bailey was at her side in seconds flat. He looked down on her golden head, and had a strong urge to run his hands through her beautiful hair. "Sam?"  
  
Sam stood up and whirled around, facing her mentor. She thrust her hand towards his face. "Smell this."  
  
Bailey held his head back slightly, and grabbed hold of her arm by the wrist. He unconsciously caressed it with is his thumb and brought it up to his nose. His brow furrowed as he took in the smell. "What is that, wine?" He kept a hold of her soft hand.  
  
She nodded. "And spices." She remarked pensively. She placed her other hand on the edge of the tomb, and stepped out with Bailey's aid. "I'm starting to think there's a stronger connection to the exposition." Sam dusted off her skirt.  
  
"Why?" John asked, removing his white gloves.  
  
Sam leaned against the tomb. "I think that the suspect wanted to mummify these people." She looked back at the tomb. "The whole wine and spices just confirmed it."  
  
"Maybe they went out for an expensive dinner before." John laughed.  
  
Bailey rolled his eyes. "There are roughly seven steps to mummification, and the first is cleansing the body." Bailey informed.  
  
Sam agreed. "The bodies are usually washed in a solution of wine and spices, which is what I found traces of, inside the tomb." She paused for a minute then looked at Bailey. "I'm done. Maybe we can get someone to get some evidence from inside the tomb."  
  
Bailey nodded then turned to John and Nathan. "Did you guys find anything?"  
  
Nathan shook his head. "Nothing. Couldn't even find any footprints," he pointed to the ground which was covered in a heavy dusting of sand and dried mud, "because there have already been so many people on set." John dropped his head. "Great, what a waste of time, we have absolutely nothing to go on!" He complained.  
  
"Hey!" Bailey warned him. "We have a theory now, and a damn good one, thanks to Sam's observations. So don't tell me that this was a waste of time." Bailey turned and headed towards the exit, followed by Sam and Nathan. John lagged behind a couple of seconds, pondering Bailey's actions, and jogged to join the others.  
  
Once in the car, Sam turned to Bailey. "Thanks." She smiled.  
  
"For what?" He focused on the road, afraid that his eyes would reveal his deepest emotions.  
  
"For what - for sticking up for me. It means a lot, Bail." She looked at him, trying to communicate her thanks.  
  
Bailey gave her a half-smile, and glanced at her side-ways. "Let's go to the exposition." 


	4. Being on Display

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : Oi, what happened to the feedback? *sob* Hehe, anywho, hope this isn't too boring.  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 4. ----------------  
  
Brooklyn Museum, New York  
  
The team walked up the stairs of the monument. Bailey stayed close to Sam, as he always did. "Bittersweet" he would often call it; but the closeness, although it didn't satisfy his hunger for her, appeased it; it lessened the pain of seeing her in the arms of another man - just enough to make it barely livable. "Okay, once we get in there, I want you guys to keep an eye out for Victoria Klunk and Keri Yule. We both know that they'll be attending the re-opening of the Egyptian exposition, and I want to catch them before they leave, or worse yet, go into hiding." Bailey said as they neared the elevators.  
  
"We don't know why Yule is here, but Klunk made a rather large donation to help some funding for the ceremony and a couple of excavation trips too." Sam added, as they piled into the elevator.  
  
Bailey leaned across Sam and pressed for the third floor. Sam observed his hand, noting its rough beauty: long, strong fingers that just had a rugged sensuality to them. She closed her eyes and inhaled as Bailey's scent caressed her nostrils and delighted her senses. She felt herself getting warm and shifted uncomfortably. Bailey glanced at her. "You okay, Sam?" He asked, concerned.  
  
She just nodded softly, and stared straight ahead. A loud "ding" signaled the third floor and the agents stepped out, instantly surveying the area: dozens of people had already began to disperse, and they realized that the opening ceremony had just ended.  
  
"I want to thank everyone for coming today," a tender voice filled the area, "especially Ms. Klunk for her support on the project. For this, the museum would like to present her an honor plaque for her dedication." The room was filled with clapping and cheering as they awaited Valerie to accept her plaque.  
  
Bailey nodded to Nathan, motioning for him to keep an eye on her. "Got her." Nathan whispered to Bailey, as he awaited her to step up to the podium. All agents looked at eachother surprised as a twenty-year old stepped up.  
  
"I would just like to say that it was my pleasure to donate this money to the Egyptian wing of the museum." The brunette said. "With the unfortunate passing of my father," she paused, and took in a deep breath, in an effort to control her emotions, "I was left with a rather large sum of money and felt compelled to give back to the community. I just hope that this will open your eyes to the beauty of Egyptian civilization." She paused and looked around the room. "Thank you." Victoria stepped off the make-shift stage and walked up to the mini-bar.  
  
A thin middle-aged woman stepped up to the microphone. "Thank you Ms. Klunk." She said, and the agents realized that the previous voice did in fact, belong to thin red-headed woman. "The museum invites you to stay, enjoy the artifacts and some refreshments. Thank you for making this afternoon most enjoyable." She smiled and stepped off the stage, joining Klunk at the bar.  
  
Bailey nodded to Nathan and watched him head for the bar as well. He looked towards John. "Here." He reached into his pocket and produced a picture. "This is Keri Yule. Find her and question her."  
  
"Right, boss." John play saluted Bailey and disappeared in the crowd.  
  
Bailey stood there for awhile, staring off into group of people enjoying the Egyptian culture and took a deep breath. "Bailey?" Sam placed her hand on his shoulder. "What about us?"  
  
Bailey turned around and paused; he hadn't really thought of himself and Sam's tasks. If it was up to me, Sam, I'd carry you to the closest room and show you my love. . . no, I'd let you *feel* my love. Bailey thought to himself. His eyes focused on Sam who was patiently awaiting an answer. "Uh, enjoy yourself?" Bailey exhaled. "I don't know Sam," he pointed to Nathan, "I don't want to overcrowd the two that we are questioning - one's enough to handle the job."  
  
"How about we leave these two here, and we'll find Jones." Sam suggested. "We won't be too long, besides John and Nathan can either take a taxi back to the hotel or public transportation."  
  
Bailey let out a laugh. "*Prince* John and public transportation?" His smile faded and he nodded. "Okay, I'll let Nathan know of our departure." Bailey said, as he walked towards the bar. He tapped Nathan on the shoulder. "Sorry to disturb you," he said, looking at Valerie, "but I just wanted to tell you to meet Sam and I back at the hotel."  
  
Nathan nodded and patted Bailey on the back. "Be careful."  
  
Bailey smiled and turned around, expecting to see Sam behind him. Panic coursed through his body as a vacated area stared back at him. "Sam." He said softly to himself. His eyes scanned the crowd, stopping at every blond head he could find. "Sam!" He said a little louder, as he began to push his way through the groups of people, not caring who he bumped into. His mouth had gone dry and his heart began to beat achingly fast. "Oh Sam. . ." He muttered desperately as he browsed through the large amount of people. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally found her observing one of the displays. His eyes roamed over her body: that burgundy skirt-suit was really becoming on her, bringing out her bright blue eyes and contrasting with her golden hair. Bailey just stood and watched, wishing he could feel her in his arms. Normally, guys would give their arm and a leg for one night with Sam, but he knew that he could not live with just one night. One night would be too short - a whole lifetime would be too short to share all the love he had for her.  
  
Sam stood poised in front of a mummy, unable to tear her eyes away from it. When Bailey had gone to see Nathan, she had merely glanced at it, but found an odd attraction to it's form and unsettling air. There was an empty display case with a note beside it, but she couldn't bring her eyes to leave the mummy. She glanced at the eyes, which seemed of a lifeless ice blue colour and glassed over with some sort of glazing agent. The mouth was slightly ajar with but two teeth on top, and five nestled in the bottom. The bandages were of a pale white, almost grey and covered the body from head to toe. She looked down at its foot and noticed that the bandage had been rather used where the right big toe was. She noted the pale skin and toenail that almost discreetly poked out. She jumped when a hand fell upon her shoulder.  
  
"Remarkable, isn't it?" The tender voice whispered.  
  
Sam placed her hand over her rapid heart beats. She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Really, I've always been fascinated by their rituals." She said, looking up at the figure.  
  
"Oh, I'm Priscilla Pounds, the curator of the Egyptian exposition for the past seven years." She extended her hand.  
  
Sam smiled and shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you." She paused and looked into the woman's green eyes. "It's interesting how much trouble one would go through to ensure the comfort of the dead." Sam said, finally resting her eyes on the empty case. "Expecting another shipment?"  
  
Priscilla smiled. "Yes, we always receive new shipments, almost every week actually." She walked over to the display case. "So, it's always good to check back from time to time - we are constantly renovating and working with new ideas to not only educate but entertain at the same time."  
  
Sam smiled, there was something about this woman that drew her in. Perhaps it was her dedication and passion, believing in what she loved doing or maybe it was her calming voice, but something was fascinating about her. "Will admission be free like today?" Sam joked and looked back at the empty display case. "So, what are you expecting?"  
  
Priscilla grinned. "Ah, like a magician, a curator never reveals her secrets!"  
  
Sam smiled just as Bailey walked towards her. He had been watching her conversing with this lady, and wasn't sure whether to interrupt or not. "Sam." He breathed out. "Don't disappear on me like that."  
  
There was an edge to his voice that took Sam's breath away. He seemed anxious and she had detected a slight amount of fear when he had said her name, but by looking at his face, one would never pick up on the disquietude, but Sam knew him like she knew herself. She placed her hand on his arm comfortingly. "It's okay, I was just captivated by this display, and was just chatting with . . .Priscilla Pounds?"  
  
Priscilla smiled and extended her hand towards Bailey. "Nice to meet you. Are you two on vacation together? A lot of couples opt for museums, though it's usually the women who convince the men." She laughed.  
  
Bailey smiled and shook her hand. "Uh, we. . ." He shrugged.  
  
Sam blushed. "We work together. . ." She too was at a loss for words. Priscilla raised her eyebrow and glanced at both of them.  
  
Bailey was starting to feel uncomfortable. "Listen, we have to go." He told Sam.  
  
"It was nice meeting you." Sam said, shaking the woman's hand.  
  
"Like-wise." She smiled at Bailey. "If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call." She handed Bailey her card and winked at him. Both agents watched her turn and mingle with other admirers.  
  
They both stayed silent for awhile, listening to the chatter of those around them. "So. . . let's go." Bailey said, and guided Sam towards the elevators. They both stepped in and reached for the button at the same time. Both held their breaths and Bailey finally leaned in closer. Sam closed her eyes, awaiting his lips to fall upon hers. Her eyes flew open when she heard a click and watched as Bailey merely pressed the ground- floor button and almost retreat to the other side of the elevator.  
  
Sam sighed softly as the elevator doors opened, and Bailey held them open for her. They walked to the parking lot in silence. 


	5. Puzzling out the Pieces

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : Fifth chapter. . . don't know where it'll lead, so sit back and enjoy the ride!  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 5. ----------------  
  
Brooklyn Museum, New York  
  
While Sam and Bailey had gone to locate Jones's wife, Nathan was having a hard time speaking with Victoria. "Please, Ms. Klunk, it'll just take a minute or two." He tried to reason with the elusive young girl.  
  
"Look," Victoria stopped short after trying to rid herself of him, "I've had enough with all you people begging for money. Let my father and I rest in peace!" She started to become restless.  
  
Nathan put his hands up in defence. "Look, I'm from the FBI." He held out his badge.  
  
"FBI?" Victoria asked wide-eyed.  
  
Nathan's brow furrowed. "Didn't you ever wonder how and why your father was killed?" He asked her slowly.  
  
Victoria paused, then abruptly wiped the tears from her eyes. Her voice was lower, and less riddled with emotion. "Look, the man was an ass - he abused my mother and I throughout his life."  
  
"I thought you were estranged." Nathan looked at her skeptically.  
  
"A person can abuse another without being present in their life." She retorted. "He abused my mother until she succumbed to a mental breakdown two years ago." She looked around and lowered her voice. "I'm glad the bastard's gone."  
  
"So you hadn't seen him since. . ." Nathan took out his notepad.  
  
"Since my mother was put in the Fairchild Institute."  
  
"So you were, what, eighteen when you last saw your father?" Nathan asked.  
  
Victoria nodded. "I was old enough to get my own apartment, but I dropped out of school though." Victoria took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, I must meet with my agent." She began to leave.  
  
"Agent?" Nathan muttered to himself. "Uh, can I ask one last question."  
  
"What?" She asked impatiently.  
  
"All this money," Nathan motioned the building, "for the funding and what- not, and obviously some spent on your wardrobe," he commented on her attire, "is from your father's life insurance?"  
  
Victoria frowned. "I don't think that's any of your concern." She turned and walked towards her agent. Nathan's eyes followed the thin brunette, clad in a black designer dress.  
  
Just then, John appeared behind him. "So, any luck?" Nathan shrugged, still looking at Victoria. "Me neither." John replied. "I couldn't even find Keri Yule in this mess of people."  
  
"Bailey's going to be pissed." Nathan stated.  
  
"Yeah. . . speaking of which, where is our fearless leader?" John asked looking around.  
  
"We have to meet them back at the hotel." Nathan said, and turned to leave.  
  
John sighed. "I hate taking the bus."  
  
***  
  
Jones's Residence, New York  
  
Bailey pulled up to the Jones's residence. It was a small cottage-like house with a white picket fence and two trees adorning the front lawn. They walked up the stone pathway and Sam rang the doorbell.  
  
An average looking woman opened the door. "Yes?"  
  
"Mrs. Jones, my name is Samantha Waters and this is Bailey Malone - can we come in?" Sam asked.  
  
Sandra looked at them. "In regards to what?" She asked, rather coldly.  
  
"We're from the FBI, we'd really like to speak with you." Bailey held out his badge.  
  
Sandra inspected it, and stepped back to let the two agents in. "Please come in."  
  
Sam smiled and Bailey guided her in, his hand on the small of her back. Once inside, Sandra went into the kitchen to fix them some tea while Bailey and Sam sat on the floral-upholstered couch. Bailey looked at the couch and grimaced, causing Sam to giggle.  
  
"It is bad, isn't it?" He grinned.  
  
She got up and looked at the pictures on the wall. Her eyes fell upon a picture of a happy couple. "It's funny, because everyone knows that you can't choose who you fall in love with," Sam stated and suddenly noticed that Bailey was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder. She turned her head and they locked gazes. Sam could feel his warm breath caressing her lips, and she parted them slowly as her gaze continued to rest on his delectable lips. She found herself drawing towards him but a noise from the kitchen broke her concentration. She cleared her throat and continued her thought, "but it's always odd to see a couple where the woman is taller than the man." She continued staring at the picture that was obviously taken at the Jones's wedding: Corey and Sandra were standing in each other's arm, oblivious to the cameraman. It was so natural that one would assume that they were specifically created for each other.  
  
Bailey moved away from Sam and sat back down on the couch. "Society has deemed the 'norm' Sam. I mean, somewhere - from TV or the movies or whatever, it was said that men have to be taller, stronger, more impulsive than women. Women are the thinkers of the couple." He shrugged. "But it isn't necessarily true - there are exceptions to every rule. It's just 'seems' odd because we see it everyday."  
  
Sam nodded and sat down beside Bailey just as Sandra walked in. "Sorry for the wait, I don't usually drink tea." She smiled, placing a tray on the coffee table and sat down on a recliner placed to the side of the couch. There was an small moment of silence. "So, what can I help you with?" She asked.  
  
"Well, we'd first like to express our condolences about your husband," Sam started, "but we'd just like to ask you a few questions."  
  
Sandra nodded. "I haven't spoken about Corey since his death. . . it's been very hard." She looked down at her ring finger. "He never wanted kids, had no family, so I have nothing to remember him by," she let out a melancholic laugh, "just pictures, oodles of them."  
  
"As long as you remember him in your heart, his memory will live on forever." Sam said sincerely. Bailey looked at Sam sadly and placed a reassuring hand over hers.  
  
"Did Mr. Jones have any enemies?" Bailey asked.  
  
Sandra shook her head. "He was a wonderful man, a hard worker who always gave back to the community. He helped with the local Boyscouts and even volunteered in a Big Brother plan."  
  
"Did he ever have any threats, any complaints against him?"  
  
She shook her head again. "Never." She took in a deep breath. "We were just regular people, wanting to live out our lives together."  
  
Bailey stood up and paced a little. "I don't understand - could he have been at the wrong place at the wrong time?" He asked, leaning against the mantle above the fireplace.  
  
Sam chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out Corey's role in the murder. "No, he was chosen, and . . ."  
  
"And what?" Sandra asked, perplexed.  
  
Sam shrugged. She looked at Bailey for support, for a solution or an idea. Her eyes kept focusing on his body, stealing glances here and there. She came to the realization that she was always 'checking him out'. Her eyes trailed up his strong chest to his bulging arms, particularly the one that was resting on the mantle: his muscle was flexed and she wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in his strength. Sam blinked away her temptation and her eyes accidentally fell onto a picture beside Bailey. She stood up and walked slowly towards the picture, never removing her eyes from it.  
  
Bailey took a step back; for a second, it looked as if Sam was slowly charging him. After a vicious inner-battle of welcoming her 'advances' with open arms or merely stepping aside, he opted for the latter. His yearning for her had often persuaded him to misinterpret the issues at hand, leaving him looking a fool. "What is it?"  
  
Sam said nothing, but merely picked up the photo. She held it up to Bailey and he removed it from her delicate hands. "It's Klunk."  
  
Sandra stood up. "Yes, delightful girl."  
  
"You know her?" Bailey asked surprised.  
  
Sandra nodded. "Corey volunteered to be her big brother. Terrible past she had, what with her mother's murder and her father's suicide."  
  
Sam's brow furrowed. "Her mother was murdered?"  
  
"Are you sure her father committed suicide?" Bailey asked Sandra.  
  
She shrugged. "I didn't have any reason to believe otherwise. We took the poor dear in, and raised her as much as we could. She 'was' eighteen, and had done most of her growing-up, but we still helped her none the less." She smiled. "I heard she was doing very well - went back to school, even got a scholarship."  
  
"Have you spoken to her recently?" Sam asked, sitting down on the couch.  
  
Sandra nodded and sat down. "She called me a few weeks ago, seemed rather agitated."  
  
"What did she say?" Bailey got out his notepad.  
  
"She said that she was doing well, and wanted to thank Corey and I for all the help." Sandra smiled. "Corey spoke to her, and he did seem a little upset after the conversation." Sandra paused, reflecting on the event. "Yes, he seemed angry."  
  
"Did he say why?" Bailey asked, impatiently.  
  
Sandra shook her head and shrugged. "I didn't press the matter; we sat down and ate dinner in silence. The next few days, things fell back into our normal routine . . . then Corey just didn't come home." Tears started to form in her eyes. "I got a call from the police and . . . and . . ." Sandra stuttered and broke down.  
  
Sam rushed to her side. "Thank you Mrs. Jones, you've been a great help." She put a loose arm over her shoulders. Sam looked up at Bailey who nodded, signaling that they should leave.  
  
"Uh, thank you for the tea and for your time. Is there anyone who visits you, or sees you?" Bailey asked, concerned. "You shouldn't be alone."  
  
"A friend visits me daily," she smiled, "I owe a lot to her."  
  
Sandra bid the agents goodbye and closed her door. Walking back to the SUV, Sam and Bailey were both lost in thought, due to the developments that had arisen. "Is it just me, or are things getting interesting?" Bailey asked with a small smile. 


	6. Night Encounters

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : I know, I know, I babble too much. Shmeh!  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 6. ----------------  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Sam and Bailey arrived at the Comfort Inn an hour later. They had opted to stop off at a small Bistro along the way, giving in to their growing hunger. "Thanks Bail, that was great!" Sam said as they stepped into the lobby, and headed for the elevator.  
  
"As long as you enjoyed the meal." Bailey smiled.  
  
"Ah, Mister Malone?" The owner jogged up to them. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but we just got word of a cancellation, thus freeing up a room for you. And it appears that luck is also on your side sir, it's right across from the two adjoining rooms, so you won't be separated." The owner looked pleased with himself.  
  
Bailey shrugged and looked at Sam.  
  
"We're fine." She answered for him. "Thank you." They continued towards the elevator. Sam laughed. "I swear, I never eat that much!"  
  
"Are you sure, Sam?" Bailey asked, seriously.  
  
"What are you implying, Malone? That I pig out on a regular basis?" Sam feigned hurt.  
  
Bailey shook his head and smiled. "No, I mean, about the room." He paused. "Are you sure? I'll be right across . . . "  
  
"Really Bailey, I'm fine with it. We're both night owls, so if I have any leads or ideas, I can ask you straight away, instead of trudging to Timbuktu and back. So it actually all worked out for the best." Sam said, optimistically.  
  
"Okay, you're the boss." Bailey exhaled as they stepped off the elevator and headed towards their room. Sam opened the door with the key.  
  
"Surprise!" A voice rang out from inside.  
  
"Coop?" Sam said, shocked.  
  
"Coop." Bailey stated, with disgust.  
  
Coop embraced Sam, his hands falling to her rear. "Hey, I missed you." He said, breathlessly. He looked up at Bailey. "Hey Malone."  
  
Bailey looked at him with a tight smile. ". . . about that room." He muttered to himself, and turned to go locate the owner of the Inn. "I'll be back." He threw over his shoulder and walked briskly towards the elevator. "Shit." He spat out, as the doors closed.  
  
Sam watched Bailey leave and turned to look at Coop. She wasn't sure of her feelings of his presence. It didn't make her heart flutter like when Bailey was around, but it was still nice to be loved and appreciated.  
  
Bailey descended to the lobby and cut in line at the reception desk. "I'll take the room." He told the receptionist. The receptionist looked at him blankly.  
  
"Give the room that was just cancelled to Mr. Malone." The manager came up behind her. She nodded and handed him the key.  
  
Bailey smiled. "Thank you." He took the key and walked towards the elevator. At least I can be miserable alone. . .   
  
Back in the room, Sam was standing awkwardly near the door. "So, what are you doing here?" She asked.  
  
Coop shrugged. "I was just in the neighborhood?" He smiled as Sam raised her eyebrow. "Nah, I called up George to find out where you guys were staying."  
  
"So you came all the way to Brooklyn, just to say 'hi'?" Sam asked, incredulously.  
  
Coop advanced towards Sam. "Well, I never did get that lunch you promised." He started kissing her. "How about dinner?"  
  
Sam closed her eyes as his hand descended to her breast. Oh Bailey . . . Her mind substituted Coop's hand for the man she adored. "I've already eaten."  
  
"How about desert, then?" Coop said mischievously. He pushed her gently on the bed and crawled over her.  
  
"Coop . . . the door's open." Sam tried to stall him. Truth be told, she was no longer sure of her feelings towards him. After spending so much time alone with Bailey, she started fancying the idea of being with him even more. Her body began to ache for physical contact, her ears longed to be caressed by his voice, her eyes pleaded to view his handsome face. She shook her head for she knew it would never happen. I'm probably just a friend in his eyes. She told herself. But it still isn't fair to drag Coop into this.  
  
Coop slipped his hand under Sam's shirt. "Come on, Sam."  
  
Sam gently pushed Coop off of her. "Sorry." She whispered. "I'm just a little tired." She said, suddenly feeling drained. "I think I'm going to hit the hay early tonight."  
  
"Sam, have I done anything to upset you?" Coop asked, concerned.  
  
Sam shook her head and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I get cranky when I'm tired." She lied.  
  
Coop nodded. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to head to the pub downstairs."  
  
"Okay." Sam replied and closed her eyes. She heard Coop leave and she got up to change into her pajamas. Just as she was closing the door, she spotted Bailey. She held the door open for him. "You don't have to change rooms." Sam tried to reason with Bailey.  
  
Bailey laughed bitterly. "It'd be too weird, Sam." He said, throwing all of his clothes into his overnight bag. He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with his electrical shaver. "Anyway, I'm right across from you." He said, opening the door to his room. "Besides, John and Nathan are right beside, and you have Coop. . . " He couldn't finish his sentence.  
  
But I want you. Sam screamed internally.  
  
Bailey paused. "Why *is* Coop here?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "I don't know, he didn't tell me." She looked at Bailey, hoping to find a little hint of jealousy. "Why, you don't mind, do you?"  
  
"Yes, of course I mind." Bailey replied quickly. He frowned and stepped into his room, Sam close behind.  
  
"Why?" Sam pressed.  
  
Bailey dropped his bag on the ground and turned towards her. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. "Because. . ." He sighed audibly. "Because he's not part of the team." He threw his hands up in the air. "Because I don't want him to interfere with the case."  
  
Sam dropped her head to her chest. "Oh." She was disappointed. What did you expect, Waters? For him to pick you up in his strong arms, throw you on the bed and make wild animal sex to you? She chided herself sarcastically.  
  
Bailey walked past her, and turned towards her once outside his room. "Hey, I'm heading down to the bar, you want to come with?" He held out his hand - an impulse that surprised even himself.  
  
Sam looked at his inviting hand and she felt her hand slip into his, almost drawn by an imaginary force. He started to gently pull her towards the elevator. "Actually," she spoke up, "I'm going to go to bed early." However, she kept her hand in his.  
  
"Oh." Bailey said, dejectedly and loosened his hold on her slender hand.  
  
"Goodnight." She gave his hand a squeeze. She gazed into his eyes, turned and stepped into her room.  
  
Bailey just watched her go. " 'night." He said to the closed door. He stood there, staring at it momentarily and continued to his destination. Bailey stepped out of the Inn and into the pub next door. The bar was small and technically wasn't considered part of the Inn, but all Bailey wanted was to drown himself in the warm sensation of alcohol. Bailey took a seat at the bar and took a look around.  
  
"What?" The bartender asked.  
  
"Jamieson's on the rocks." Bailey answered, anxiously awaiting the familiar taste to coat his throat and calm his nerves. The bartender placed the glass on a napkin in front of Bailey, who nodded his thanks. He took a long sip, letting the liquid glide down.  
  
"Hey!" Coop sat beside Bailey. "How's it going, Malone?"  
  
"Coop." Bailey said, coldly and looked away. He noted that Coop must have already familiarized himself with the alcohol. Low tolerance. . . Bailey mused, a sardonic look on his face.  
  
"Why you always so hostile towards me, man?" Coop asked, amidst slurs and bad structured sentences.  
  
"I'm not." Came a curt response.  
  
"It's cos I'm banging Sam, isn't it?" Coop spat in Bailey's face.  
  
Bailey's eyes grew wide with anger. "Watch your mouth!" He warned.  
  
"I see the way you look at her." Coop laughed. "You're pissed because I got what's in her pants!"  
  
Bailey lunged towards Coop, picked him up by his shirt lapels and shoved him against the wall. People began to watch the scene that these two men were concocting. "You shut the hell up, you hear?!" Bailey barked at him.  
  
Coop laughed in his drunken state; inhibitions lost and conscience but a faint memory. "Come on Malone, admit it! You want a piece of her, don't you? You've wanted to bang her since she joined your stupid force."  
  
Bailey growled and shoved Coop against the wall. "You're threading on thin ice . . ."  
  
Just then, John and Nathan stepped in and immediately spotted Bailey holding Coop. "Hey!" John ran up to Bailey and tried to pull him off. "Nathan, give me a hand, will you?!" He yelled, struggling with the older man. The two of them finally managed to pull Bailey away from Coop, and held him back.  
  
Coop straightened his clothes. "I know what you want, Malone, but it's my name she'll be screaming tonight."  
  
Bailey lunged forth, but Nathan and John held him back. "You son of a bitch!"  
  
Seeing the madness in Bailey's eyes forced Coop to take a step back. Pressing his lips together he swung at Bailey's face with his fist.  
  
Bailey felt the hand come in contact with his jaw and his head snapped to the side. "Go home, Coop. We'll call you if there are any bomb threats." Bailey said calmly, and wrestled out of Nathan's and John's grasp. He turned his back and went to sit at the bar.  
  
"Hey!" John let go of Bailey and pushed Coop into the wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"  
  
Coop just laughed. "He deserved it."  
  
Nathan shook his head. "Get him out of here, before Bailey kills him."  
  
John pushed Coop towards the exit. "We'll have to ice you down, fella." John said, trying to keep his emotions in check : a threat to Bailey was a threat to the whole team. But he was Sam's boyfriend and John didn't know the whole story; the guy deserved another chance. He guided him towards Sam's room and knocked. Coop was staggering around, spouting off nonsensical gibberish.  
  
Sam sat up and turned on the light. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and walked to the door. "John?" She looked at Coop and then looked back at John.  
  
"He drank a little too much. Let's get him into the tub." John turned on the shower while Sam too off Coop's shirt.  
  
She looked at his body and found herself comparing it to Bailey's; he was nothing compared to Bailey. She pushed his head under the ice cold water and held it there, despite Coop's protests. "Just stay still." Her eyes fell on his hand, swollen and red. "What happened?"  
  
"He got into a little fight, nothing big." John shrugged. "I don't know what happened." He lied. John didn't want to divulge any information, especially regarding Bailey. He figured it would be best if Bailey himself dealt with the subject.  
  
Sam took a towel and dried off Coop's head and neck and then helped John drag him towards the beds. Half way there, John stopped. "Hey, I have an idea. Bring him to my room." The two agents dragged Coop's limp body to John and Nathan's room. They plopped him on the bed. "There, we'll just switch rooms, and this way, I don't have to share a bed with Nathan!" John was pleased.  
  
"And I thought you two made a cute couple." Sam joked. She looked down at Coop and her smile faded. "Who did he punch? Is the person okay?"  
  
John nodded. "I'm sure he's fine." He began to pick up his things and transport them into the other room, as Sam brought her and Coop's affairs into their new room.  
  
"I should tell Bailey that we've changed rooms." Sam proceeded to go out the door.  
  
"Uh, Bailey's down at the pub." John said. "I'm going back, so I'll let him know." He tossed her his door key, and took hers. "Goodnight."  
  
"See ya." She said, and glanced back at Coop. "Yup, definitely passed out." She sat on the bed and just stared at him, wondering what to do next.  
  
***  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Night had already fallen, and the early hours of the morn soon approached. Sam tossed and turned, realizing that sleep was futile. She glanced over, noting that Coop was still sound asleep. . . . or passed out. She chuckled. She got up and opened the door, glancing at Bailey's door. A faint light could be seen from the crack under it, and she wasn't surprised that her boss would still be up. Closing her door behind her, she padded to his door and gently turned the handle. She paused, happy to find it unlocked. Popping her head inside, she observed that the lamp on the bedside table was still on, but Bailey seemed to be in a deep sleep. He was lying on his side, facing away from her. A few case files were strewn on the bed and floor. You're such a work-aholic, Malone. She smiled. Closing the door behind her, she stopped in her tracks. What are you doing, Waters? Breaking and entering? Spying? This is bordering obsession. Her conscience taunted her. She blocked out the voice and gazed at Bailey's strong body. He was clad in a white sleeveless under shirt and striped boxers. Her eyes traveled up his large feet, muscular calves, strong thighs, firm buttocks. Her hand ached to squeeze them, to run her fingers up and down his legs. She began to give in to her urges and traced a line from his ankle to about mid-calf with her finger. Bailey gave no response. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rolled him over on his back. Sam stumbled back, eyes wide with terror. Her throat was dry and she tried to scream but her voice seemed to have vanished. "Bailey, Bailey! Bailey, don't die . . ." She pressed her hand to his chest, but the blood kept flowing out. Cut marks graced his shoulders, and a long line of blood remained crusted from one side of his neck to the other. "No, Jack! Not him!" She cried out. His eyes were open and seemed to look back at her with defeat. She turned to pick up the phone when a hand grabbed her by her hair and forced her back, while another hand clamped over her mouth.  
  
Sam sat up briskly in her bed, placing her hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. She froze, the essence of the dream still with her and then she began to shake. The realism of her nightmare still haunted her, and she longed to see Bailey. She looked at the clock, not caring whether it was two in the morning. She got out of bed and almost ran to his room. She turned the handle, but found it to be locked. She knocked on the door. No answer. "Bailey?" She asked softly, while still knocking. There was still no answer. "Bailey!" She began to raise her voice. Finally the door opened a crack.  
  
"Sam?" Bailey asked worried, and ushered her in. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sam looked around the room; it was meticulous. No case files - everything seemed to be in order. She looked at Bailey, searching his face, neck and chest. Her eyes fell to his lip where she observed a small cut. She looked at him questionningly.  
  
Bailey shrugged. "Just a little misunderstanding."  
  
"Did Coop do this to you?" She asked through clenched teeth. She traced her fingers over his lower lip.  
  
Bailey exhaled roughly. "It's fine, Sam. Don't worry about it . . . it was probably my fault."  
  
"Are you okay?" She asked, searching his neck, looking for any signs that would prove her nightmare wrong.  
  
Bailey grabbed hold of her and looked into her eyes. "I should ask you that." He guided her to the queen sized bed that lay in the middle of the room. "What happened, Sam? Talk to me, please." He asked again.  
  
She looked down at the floor. "I had this horrid dream, Bail. I can't shake this terrifying feeling." She finally averted her attention to him. "I lost you . . . he took you away from me as he did Tom." She began to tremble.  
  
Bailey pulled her into his embrace and held her tight. He had never seen her so frightened save when Tom was killed. But he knew issues concerning Jack shouldn't be taken lightly. He passed a hand through her hair, finally resting it at the nape of her neck. He gingerly kissed her forehead and rested his chin against her head. They stayed like that, neither of them daring to speak. Sam just wanted to remain in his security for the rest of time, and Bailey wanted nothing more than to keep her there. When he felt her breathing return to a normal rate, he gently pushed her back and searched her eyes. "Are you okay?"  
  
Sam nodded, looking at him with unshed tears in her eyes. "It must sound silly, huh?" She laughed at herself, pitifully. She blinked and a tear managed to escape.  
  
Bailey wiped away the tear with his thumb, and his hand gently cupped her face. "I'll always be here for you, Sam."  
  
"I don't want to leave, Bailey." Sam said, in a childlike voice. She looked at him pleadingly.  
  
Bailey knew he couldn't refuse Sam. He would descend to hell and back if she asked him to. "You can sleep on the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor." He took a pillow from the bed and reached to pick up the blanket.  
  
"No, please hold me." Sam almost begged him.  
  
Bailey bit his lower lip and got into bed. He cuddled up to Sam, protecting her with one arm wrapped around her body. He pressed his chest into her back and buried his face into the richness of her golden hair. He pulled her closer to him, wanting nothing more to save her from the engulfing darkness.  
  
Sam closed her eyes, giving herself to the tranquility that seemed to surround her whenever she found herself in his presence. Thoughts flooded her mind, as to why Jack killed Bailey in her dream and not Coop. Her eyes flew open: could Jack see the love she held for Bailey? Was her dream a warning? Bailey always told her to trust her intuition, to never ignore those gut feelings that she often got. She leaned back into his strength, and slowly drifted off, caressed by the warmth of his body.  
  
Bailey lay awake, unable to sleep. There would be other chances for him to sleep, but right now Sam needed his protection - and he would never let her down. To that, he swore to protect her for all of time. 


	7. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : I probably didn't portray Coop verbatim to the actual character, but this is how *I* see him. But I did tone it down a little . . . you should have seen my original sketch of him! evilgrin  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 7. ----------------  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Sam's eyes fluttered open, as a few stray rays of sun caressed her face. She lay there, basking in the warmth that was cast by Bailey's body. She sighed contently, and arched her back, molding herself into his body. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she noted that they would have to leave and meet up with the rest of the team in two hours. She shifted her weight ever so slowly, trying desperately not to wake her mentor. She gracefully slid of the bed and glanced back at him. He was still lying on his side, with one arm folded under his pillow, while the other lay loosely somewhat in front of him, where she had once laid. His face was relaxed, and his mouth was partially open. Her eyes wandered over his body, taking in his handsome features and aching to feel love. She stepped into the bathroom to freshen up, and decided to have a quick shower before Bailey woke up.  
  
Bailey's eyes flew open when he no longer felt Sam in his arms. He sat up in a panic, and looked around the room: everything seemed to be in order. He got up and finally heard the shower running. Letting out a sigh of relief, he stretched his tired muscles and reached for his bath robe. A knock on the door deterred him from his current task, and he proceeded to answer it. Bailey began to open the door, when Coop pushed him aside and stormed in.  
  
"Where is she?" He asked, angered.  
  
"I see your hangover has passed." Bailey remarked, and walked towards his bathrobe.  
  
"Malone. Did you trick her? Kidnap her?" Coop began to overreact. He heard the shower on. "You slept with her." It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
Bailey rolled his eyes. "You're paranoid, Coop. Just go home, you're not part of this team."  
  
"I'm taking Sam with me." Coop reached for the bathroom door.  
  
Bailey stopped him. "Let her finish her shower, then talk to her." He paused and dared the ATF agent to defy him. Coop took a step back. "This isn't over."  
  
Bailey shrugged. "Just get out of my room." After Coop had left, Bailey put on his robe and lay down on top of the covers. He closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths - trying to calm himself down.  
  
"Hey you." Sam stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a terry-cloth bathrobe. She was sure that Bailey must have used it after his shower last night, for his distinct smell still hung off the fabric. She had stood in the bathroom for quite awhile, inhaling and lolling in his scent, hoping that her skin would just absorb it.  
  
"Sam." Bailey smiled. "We have to meet the team in about an hour and fifteen." He got up and headed towards the bathroom. He stopped in front of her. "So. . . about last night . . . are you feeling better?"  
  
Sam nodded and put her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much." She whispered.  
  
Bailey rested his arms on her hips. His hand unconsciously began gently gliding up and down, from her thigh all the way to her waist. His breath was cut short when he heard her moan. "Sam, I -"  
  
" - Sam!" Bailey was interrupted by Coop who barged into the room.  
  
Sam and Bailey broke apart, and Sam walked over to her boyfriend. "What, honey?" She asked, innocently.  
  
Coop opened his mouth to speak but then thought better of it. "Nothing, I was just worried about you, that's all." He moved in to hug her, glaring at Bailey over her shoulder. "I missed you last night."  
  
Sam smiled, though a little uncertainly. "Let's go to our room, okay?" She grabbed his hand and guided him to the room across.  
  
Bailey watched silently as Sam and Coop disappeared into their room. He sighed, wondering what she saw in that gum-chewing jerk, but pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He stepped into the bathroom and closed his eyes; her aroma still hung in the now-misty bathroom. He disrobed and stepped into the shower stall, letting the hot water cascade down his back. He let the water trickle down his face, and slicked his hair back. He began soaping himself and imagined Sam's hands touching him. . . loving him. He looked down and cursed himself for getting so aroused. He turned on the cold water and stayed in until his body got used to the temperature. Stepping out, he grabbed a towel off the rack and reached for his terry- cloth bathrobe. "Damnit." He muttered, realizing that Sam had it. He dried himself off, and wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out to get dressed.  
  
"Bailey!" Sam exclaimed.  
  
Bailey stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights. He grabbed the towel, making sure that it was covering him securely. "Sam, what's wrong?" He asked, instantly concerned.  
  
Sam's eyes roamed over his naked chest; a drizzle of water still present, causing his chest hair to glimmer in the light. She tried to avert her attention elsewhere, but her eyes were feasting his body and she couldn't tear them away. "Um. . . George sent a package, specifically addressed to you. I didn't read it or anything - I mean, it's for your eyes only. . ." She bit her lower lip, knowing full-well that she was babbling. "Sorry, I knocked and there was no answer. . .and then I got worried, so I let myself in, and you immediately stepped out in that towel, and . . ." Sam slapped her forehead.  
  
Bailey smiled. "Hey, next time I'll charge for the show." He tried to lighten the mood.  
  
Sam smiled, and cast her eyes downwards. "So, I'll leave it here," she left it on the desk, "and I'll see you in about forty minutes." She almost ran out of his room.  
  
Bailey's brow furrowed at Sam's behaviour. His eyes fell upon the package and he reached to open it. Inside was a paper, a photo and a black baseball cap with the initials 'S.A.L' on the front. He looked at the picture and then at the paper. Smiling slyly, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a black t-shirt and a black pair of pants. Quickly dressing and shaving, he put the cap on and checked himself in the mirror. He opened the door and peeped outside: it was deserted. Locking the door behind him, he jogged towards the elevator and descended to the ground floor. He hailed a cab and directed the cabby to drive to the museum.  
  
***  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Meanwhile, back at the Inn, Sam was sitting on the bed, listening to Coop rant. "Coop, calm down." She finally spoke up. "I'm hurt that you don't trust me."  
  
"It's not you, babe. . . it's him." Coop replied, childishly.  
  
Sam rubbed his back. "Bailey's been my friend for ages, I would know if he felt anything for me." Sam said, but more as a reality check for herself. The moment in the room when he was touching her had lead her to believe that perhaps there were more feelings present than either of them had realized. But she was sure that it was just her mind playing tricks, stretching the situation so that it would match her fantasy.  
  
"There's still something wrong with him." Coop said, his lip curled.  
  
Sam was tired of listening to him poison her mind about Bailey's intentions. "Look, maybe you should just go home, and we'll discuss this further after the case." Sam suggested. She wanted to break up with him now, but she figured it would be less difficult when her mind was unoccupied.  
  
Coop looked at Sam surprised. "You're breaking up with me?" Sam didn't give a reply, but merely chewed on her lower lip. "I can't believe you're breaking up with me! Is it because Malone's a better lay?" Coop asked, as he began to pack his things.  
  
"We didn't sleep together, okay?! What can I do to make you understand that we are just friends!" Sam raised her voice. Coop looked at her defiantly. She dropped her voice. "Look, let's just talk about it when we get home." Sam tried to reassure him. "We'll chat, over dinner or something."  
  
Coop shook his head. "Forget it, Sam." He smiled sadly. "I guess I just wanted to believe that you loved me, and only me."  
  
"I thought I did." Sam stated, upset that she hurt him.  
  
"No, you knew all along." Coop spat out, bitterly. "Your moans don't lie at night. It was always his name - night after night. I tried to ignore it, pretend you didn't say it, but I knew I could never live up to your fantasy, Sam. No man can . . . except for the fantasy himself." Coop shouldered his bag and opened the door.  
  
Sam watched him as tears rolled down her cheek. She wasn't sure if she was crying because of breaking up, hurting him or realizing how deep her love for Bailey went. "I'm sorry." She choked out.  
  
He shrugged. "It happens, huh?" After a long pause, he turned around and looked at her. "It was a hell of a ride. . . thanks." He turned and left, walking his way to a new chapter in his life.  
  
Sam glanced at the clock. She squared her shoulders and tried to compose herself for their meeting. Walking over to Bailey's room, she knocked a few times. She tried the doorknob, and found it to be locked. Maybe he's already downstairs. She heard voices from John and Nathan's room, and rushed downstairs, hoping to catch Bailey before their meeting. She had come to a decision, and she knew that, one way or another, it involved Bailey in her future. 


	8. Suspect Obtained, Evidence Needed

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : Okay, I'm back after a somewhat long hiatus. . . Feedback is always welcome, actually I'm pining for it. Please have patience with me. . . I know this seems to be dragging a bit.  
  
Cheers!  
  
Gomes.  
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 8. ----------------  
  
Brooklyn Museum, New York  
  
Bailey watched as the Brooklyn Museum came into view. He was about to get out when he overheard something on the radio. "Hey, can you turn it up?" He asked the cabby.  
  
""". . . Another man has been reported missing since last week. Ian Tiles was reported missing, and no trace of the body or kidnappers have been found. Tiles was one of New York's famed scientists in fossils and had a bachelor's in History. He was set to receive an award at the National Historians Institute for all his hard work in. . . . . ."""  
  
Bailey stepped out of the cab and paid the driver. He put on his cap and proceeded to walk to the rear entrance of the famed museum. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. While waiting for the door to be answered, he glanced at his surroundings: the backyard of the museum was completely fenced in, hidden from the rest of the world. The only way in was either from a small side path - which he had taken, or from a large gate that opened mechanically. Two large trucks were already parked in the small parking lot to which he noticed that both of them were deserted. Finally, he heard a latch open and the door opened, leaving a high-pitched squealing noise in its wake. "Morning." Bailey tipped his hat.  
  
"You the new guy?" A small, stout man asked him. "I'm Jim Bosco, welcome to 'Shippers at Large'." He extended his hand.  
  
"Randall." Bailey shook his hand. "Sorry I'm a little late." Bailey added, stepping inside.  
  
"It's okay, we're just finishing up our breakfast." Jim lead him to the others, sitting in a small room. He pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit. "This is Rick Sherbrook, Tommy Hopps and Frank Smart." He introduced the rest of the team. "This here is Randall, the new guy." He turned to Bailey. "I'm glad you're here, actually - three others called in sick."  
  
Bailey poured himself a coffee. "So, have you been delivering for the museum for a long time?"  
  
"Only since Ms. Pounds became the curator." Tommy replied.  
  
"Do you deliver other artifacts or just the Egyptian ones?" Bailey asked.  
  
"Like I said, we work only for Ms. Pounds. She trusts us with her expensive relics, and pays us real well too!" Frank added. "We don't ask questions really; we just deliver, set up and get out. She sends a hefty check to the company and then we split that money between the ones who worked that day."  
  
"She pays you daily?" Bailey asked.  
  
"Yeah," Frank answered, "because this isn't a daily job. She gives us a call whenever there's a shipment. We pick it up directly from the cargo ship, bring it here and set it up."  
  
"Is Ms. Pounds here, today?" Bailey asked, standing up.  
  
"Nah, only Rick's seen her." Jim pointed to the younger one. "Once." He added with a shrug. "What's it matter anyway, huh? As long as I'm getting the dough, I'm fine." He checked his watch. "Alright, let's go!"  
  
Rick walked up behind Bailey. "Hey, stick with me, I'll show you around."  
  
"Thanks." Bailey smiled and patted him on the back.  
  
The men grouped around the first truck. "Okay, larger artifacts first, then move to the smaller ones. The layout is on a table inside the museum." Jim gave his orders. "And don't break anything." He added as an after-thought, spawning laughter from all the men.  
  
Rick climbed into the truck and pushed a large rectangular crate to the edge. "Hey, bring the trolley." Bailey did as instructed and they loaded the crate on to it. He hopped down, and began to wheel the trolley towards the museum's warehouse entrance. "So, how did you come across us?" Rick asked.  
  
"Uh.recommendations and I needed the money. I met Pricilla Pounds who got me an interview and I got the job. Got a phone call telling me to be here at this time." Bailey said, nonchalantly, hoping that his story would fool the guy.  
  
"So, first day then?" Rick said, trying to make conversation. "You'll see, once you get the hang of it, you can do it in your sleep." He opened the warehouse door, and punched in a code.  
  
"Does everyone know the code to disarm the museum?" Bailey asked.  
  
"Nah, just me.that was the time I met Pounds." Rick added, and pushed the trolley into the museum.  
  
The museum had a haunting air to it, when dark and deserted. Bailey observed the range of mummies, hieroglyphics, paintings and relics, noting that each took on an eerie facet when encased in darkness. The lights flickered on, and Rick pushed his way through. He inclined the trolley, and Bailey stopped the crate from tipping over, easing it on to the ground.  
  
Bailey let out a breath. "Damn, that's heavy."  
  
Rick grinned. "Yeah, that's why I took the trolley." He tossed him a crow bar. "I'm going to bring the trolley to the others, you start opening the box."  
  
Bailey nodded and watched Rick stroll out with the trolley. He looked at the crate, and noted it's dimensions. It was pretty damn heavy - a good 150 pounds if not more. His muscles ached from the sudden weight but he took the crow-bar and started prying open the walls of the crate. After about five minutes, the four boards fell to the side and he took a step back, observing the subject inside. «Another mummy?» It was placed in a make- shift clear sarcophagus. «Probably a plastic case. . . » Bailey thought to himself.. It was heavily bandaged, and the sweet smell of wine mixed with the pungent smell of spices hung in the air. Something was wrong. . . something seemed funny about this mummy. It seemed smaller, more petite than the rest of them, and was bandaged really well; the light-grey material covering the entire body. It was placed in an odd manner: standing up with one leg slightly in front of the other, and an arm reaching out towards the sky. Blank black eyes stared back at him, but no life mirrored from them. Bailey looked up and noticed that Rick wasn't back yet. He bent down and took out his pocket knife. He slowly cut a small hole in the bandages, right below the heel. Then, taking his knife, he scraped along the heel, cutting off a piece of the skin. He took out a small clear bag, and dropped it in, sealing in tight as he finished. He was about to move on to another mummy and take a sample when a noise caused him to jump to his feet. He reached for his gun but then grimaced, realizing that he was 'Randal' and not 'Bailey the FBI Agent'.  
  
"Hey, you got it open pretty fast." Rick entered, munching on a donut. "Sure you've never done this before?"  
  
Bailey stood up nervously. "Yeah. . ." He waited for Rick to turn his back then pocketed the bag.  
  
"Alright, let's lift this baby and put 'em in the display case over there." Rick muttered, as he cut through the make-shift sarcophagus. "Okay. . ." Rick grunted. "This is where you come in."  
  
"Oh." Bailey stated and both men slowly placed the mummy in the display case.  
  
"Good work. Pretty strong there, buddy." Rick mentioned, and gave Bailey a small slap on his biceps. "Damn! I should just sit back and let you do all the lifting."  
  
Bailey smiled and raised his eyebrow. "If I get double the pay. . ."  
  
Rick let out a roar. "Ha! Now you're getting it!" He pointed towards the door. "The others have already loaded a few smaller items, let's tackle them."  
  
Bailey nodded and followed him. He stopped and turned around quickly, glancing back at the mummy. Staring at it, he glanced at the other one that was placed there. A movement at the far end of the museum caught his eye, and 'Bailey the FBI Agent' kicked in. He turned to Rick and motioned him to keep quiet. He slowly began walking towards the other side, trying to keep the noise level minimal. He walked around a display case with a gold casket standing upright, but at the last second, he shifted his direction and headed the other way. He came face to face with a young man. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Uh. . . I . . . " The young man looked utterly terrified.  
  
Bailey took a few steps back and turned to Rick. "This isn't my area . . . I'll go get Jim, okay?"  
  
Rick nodded. "Okay." He watched Bailey leave and turned to the young man. "So, what's your name?"  
  
"I didn't mean to sneak up, but the door was open and I couldn't find anybody, so I started looking at my new work environment and I didn't know I broke the rules -" The young guy started speaking quickly.  
  
"Wait, what do you mean 'new work environment'?" Rick asked, perplexed.  
  
"Oh, I'm Malcolm Hotz, the new employee for 'Shippers at Large'. . . didn't you get the memo?" He handed him a paper with all his credentials and his new S.A.L badge.  
  
Rick looked towards the door and let out a defeated laugh. "That son of a bitch." He furrowed his brow. "Come with me." He told the young guy. "I'll show you around." He let Malcolm go out before him and turned to the empty museum hall. He nodded towards the darkness and exited. A few seconds later, the sound of a door closing echoed through the vacant room.  
  
***  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Bailey wandered in to the hotel and scanned the lobby. It had been at least two hours since the team was supposed to meet up, and he felt bad for running out on them without letting on of his whereabouts. He walked up to the elevator and headed towards his room. He would fill in the others on his little 'expedition' later, right now the need to rest was overwhelming. Truth be told, he hadn't slept much the night before - the need to protect Sam was far too important than his strong desire to sleep. He had only allowed himself to venture into the unknown of Slumberland once the demon- filled night slowly crept to morn, and the bluish-hue of morning's light presented itself through the window. He opened the door to find Sam sitting on his bed, looking over some case files.  
  
"Where on earth have you been?!" She demanded, obviously irritated.  
  
Bailey put on his best puppy-dog look. "How did the meeting go?"  
  
"I don't know . . . we were more worried about you." Sam replied getting up from his bed. "Where did you go?"  
  
Bailey walked past Sam and collapsed face down on the bed. His muscles ached and he wanted to just curl up in his bed and sleep. "I went to the museum." Came a muffled reply.  
  
Sam sat down beside her mentor. She placed a hand between his shoulder blades and gently rubbed his back. "You're tense, Bailey." She began kneading his shoulders with one hand.  
  
Bailey moaned in response. "God Sam . . . you're wonderful." He sighed aloud.  
  
Sam smiled and straddled the small of his back. She paused, taken aback by her boldness, smiled and began digging her fingers into his heavily muscled shoulders and back, working on the tension and knots. "Alright, a massage in exchange for information." She grinned.  
  
"Hey. . . I don't take bribes." Bailey muttered.  
  
Sam stopped abruptly. "Fine. . .I guess you'll have to deal with your tense muscles yourself." She began to get off his back.  
  
"Okay, okay! I'll talk!" Bailey shouted melodramatically. "Just. . ." He motioned for her to continue massaging his back. He closed his eyes, breathing in to the bedspread. He could feel himself getting even more aroused as she straddled the small of his back once more. He felt relieved that he was lying on his belly, thus hiding his 'excited' state. Having her so close never felt so good. «She's with Coop. . .» He reminded himself, hurting immensely at the fact that they were just friends - nothing more.  
  
Sam felt herself grow warm as she lowered herself on to his back. She yearned to let her hands venture under his shirt, feeling and groping his hot skin. She wanted to feel every inch of him with her hands, but she knew that the desire would evolve, leaving her begging to feel his naked body against hers. She wanted to be crushed in an embrace, surrounded by his incredible arms. She wanted to feel herself pressed against his hard chest. She wanted to feel . . . him. "So? Talk."  
  
"Okay. . .that package you gave me this morning, had some credentials that I had asked George to send up. I had him do a little research, to give me a way to get into the museum."  
  
Sam moved her hands slightly lower on his back. "What made you want to go back to the museum?" She felt him shrug.  
  
"I don't know. . . I just thought that something wasn't right there. Just, things seemed to convenient, you know? Anyway, so George sent me the package saying that he hacked into the computer systems at the museum and found out that 'Shippers at Large' were the only delivery service for the Mummy Display at the Museum." Bailey exhaled as Sam hit a sensitive spot.  
  
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" She pulled her hands away from his body, but the sensation still remained.  
  
"Nah. . . feels really good, Sam." Bailey's voice seemed to melt off his tongue. "George also sent me an I.D. badge and uniform, along with a date and time when the next shipment would arrive. Unfortunately, the package arrived not a moment too soon, because the call for the new worker was in half an hour. That's why I didn't have time to let you guys know. . ." Bailey trailed off.  
  
"Did you find anything?" Sam asked, eager to discover what her boss had learnt from his 'undercover' stint.  
  
"Bailey?" A voice came from outside the door, followed by a couple of knocks.  
  
Sam got off Bailey, but remained seated on the bed as she awaited her boss to answer the door.  
  
Bailey froze: getting up would reveal his strong attraction to Sam and cause nothing but embarrassment at work. He didn't care about the mockeries that would probably arise at the office, it was the fear of Sam being disgusted with him that terrified him. He cleared his throat. "Uh, Sam, could you get that please?" He remained on his tummy.  
  
Sam looked at him oddly, but thought nothing of it. "Sure, Bail." She opened the door and greeted Nathan and John.  
  
Bailey remained in his position, but propped himself up on his elbows. He moved slightly, so that he was facing the agents. "What's wrong?"  
  
The two agents walked in and stood at the foot of the bed, facing Bailey. "Well, we got worried when you didn't show up at the meeting. You didn't answer your cell or leave a note. . . so we told Sam to stay here and we went looking for you." Nathan said, sitting on a chair.  
  
"Then we realized that it's freaking Brooklyn, and we would have sooner found the bloody needle in a haystack before we would find you." John added, taking a seat across from Nathan.  
  
"Thanks for your concern, guys." He smiled at them. He glanced at Sam when she took a seat beside him on the bed. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her thigh rub against his leg. "So, let's have our meeting then." He replied shakily.  
  
"Okay, Valerie Klunk is suspicious, I can give you that much. She had a motive to kill her father: he abused her and her mother way back when. Her mother was admitted to a psychiatric ward, and just recently passed away." Nathan said, opening a file. "Her mother passed away two years ago."  
  
Bailey nodded. "Okay, so Klunk has a motive, but what's her drive to donate most if not all of the money to this fundraiser and excavation?"  
  
"And why would she dispose of two others in the same manner, when all she needed was her father's life insurance?" Sam added, as an after-thought.  
  
John shrugged. "Maybe the two others were witnesses?"  
  
Bailey sighed. "It'll be hard to say, until we get some forensic evidence from Grace. I want to know what killed these men." Bailey looked at Nathan. "Good work. John?" He turned to the younger agent.  
  
John squirmed in his seat. "See. . . I couldn't locate Keri Yule." He said slowly, looking down. When his eyes finally met Bailey's, he sped up his explanation. "I questioned most if not all of the people at the fundraiser, and no one saw her! I called her husband, and it appears that he failed to mention that he and Keri had been separated for two weeks. They had a huge argument and she moved in with one of her girlfriends." John shrugged. "The only thing he remembered was her mentioning the Mummy display."  
  
Bailey nodded. "Now, Yule's husband - could he be a suspect?"  
  
John shook his head. "I don't think so. . . unless we find a common ground as to why he would take out Klunk and Jones too."  
  
"So, we're back to square one - they all have motives to kill one, but not to kill the others." Sam noted.  
  
Nathan motioned to Sam and Bailey. "What did you guys find?"  
  
Bailey spoke up. "Well, it appeared the Jones were very much loved by their neighborhood. No known enemies, did volunteer work and so on."  
  
"But get this, Corey Jones volunteered as a 'Big Brother' type, for children with no parents and what-not." Sam interjected. "I stumbled across a picture in their living room."  
  
"Yeah, if it wasn't for Sam's incredible eye for detail, we might have over- looked this connection." Bailey added, praising Sam.  
  
Sam smiled. "It was a picture of Victoria Klunk."  
  
"Are you sure?" John asked, thinking that it couldn't be that easy.  
  
Sam nodded. "And Mrs. Jones confirmed it. She also mentioned that they had spoken two weeks prior and Corey had seemed rather upset after the phone call."  
  
Bailey crossed his arms and leaned on them. "So Victoria Klunk is our number one suspect, with links to two of the victims."  
  
John stood up and handed Bailey a file. "Correction, three of the victims." Bailey's questioning look prompted John to continue. "That girlfriend's house that Keri was supposedly staying at?" John let out a laugh. "Victoria Klunk."  
  
Bailey shook his head. "I guess we got our leading suspect, though I don't want to rule out James Yule or even Sandra Jones. I want a close eye to be kept on them. . . they might make a move since the pressure is on."  
  
"So, do we go arrest her now?" John asked, ready for action.  
  
Nathan put his hands up. "Calm down, man. We don't have any evidence against her except these speculative ideas. It's all hear-say and she could walk away a free woman in court."  
  
Bailey agreed. "Nathan's right, we have to wait until Grace gives us a some evidence from the lab before we can charge her with anything." Bailey checked his watch. "She's supposed to call this afternoon so we'll have to wait at least until then."  
  
"I'm still troubled about her donations to the Museum. Is she that interested in Egyptian civilizations that she would kill just to donate?" Sam asked aloud.  
  
"Maybe she thinks that the donating would spare her a trip to Hades." John remarked lamely.  
  
"Are we sure that she killed just for the money? Or was it really because her father was abusive. And why kill Yule and Jones as well. Apparently Jones was her 'Big Brother' figure, and if she knew Keri, she obviously would have known Keri's brother." Bailey rubbed his tired eyes. "There's a physical connection, but what about a motivational connection."  
  
All members fell silent. This conundrum, though at first seemed easy, was proving to be rather hard to certify its authenticity. Sam spoke up. "Bailey? You never finished telling me what you did at the Museum."  
  
John and Nathan both sat up in their chairs. "Yeah, spill." Nathan coaxed him on.  
  
"Okay, you know when you get these instincts? There was something fishy about the museum, and I wanted to see how the delivery was taken care of. I wanted to know who did it, when they did it and how they did it. Georgie sent me some papers, and I got in, posing as the new recruit. They showed me around and I observed that only one man knows the code to open and lock the doors, via the security system." Bailey took out a pen and paper. "His name was Rick. . ." He closed his eyes forcefully, trying to remember. ". . . Rick Sherbrook!" He noted it down. "Also, there was Jim Bosco, Tommy Hopps and Frank Smart." He wrote them down too. "They pick up all the deliveries at the cargo section of the airport, drive it back here, have a small breakfast and unload everything. They also told me that it's not a daily job - they're called a few days in advance whenever there's a shipment."  
  
"So. . . did you find anything interesting?" Sam asked.  
  
"I was with the Rick guy, and he instructed me to open a crate of a newly delivered Mummy. I opened it, and there was just this different air about it. So I took out my knife and scraped a piece of skin off the heel of the specimen."  
  
"And?" John asked, excited.  
  
"I sent it to Grace. . . hopefully she'll call me tomorrow with the results." Bailey responded.  
  
"I know all we have right now are theories, but I think thanks to Bailey getting a sample and all the information we've gathered - I think we can solve this case." Sam said, in a positive manner.  
  
Bailey checked his watch again. "It's about lunch time. . . what say we head out to a restaurant?" He asked the team.  
  
Nathan and John seemed to have a guilty expression on their faces. "Uh. . . we already ate." John stuttered.  
  
"Yeah, when we went looking for you, well, there were so many vendors on the street that we tried a few." Nathan added. "But you guys go ahead, John and I are going to go roam around a bit, maybe stop by the museum and see if we missed anything."  
  
Bailey nodded. "Okay, sounds good." He watched the two agents leave. "Stay in touch." He called out after them. Turning to Sam, he smiled warmly. "I guess it's just you and me." Then, reality hit him like a sucker punch to the face. "Unless Coop wants to join us too." He couldn't help the venom leak out whenever he said his name.  
  
Sam was about to tell him that her relationship with Coop was over, but something held her back. "He's not feeling very well, so I let him sleep." She lied. «Arg! Now why did I do that?» She leaned her head back on the headboard.  
  
"Oh." Bailey said, delightfully surprised. "I saw a cozy little Italian restaurant on the way home. . . care to join me?" He got up and sat on the bed, facing away from Sam. "Uh, say we meet in the lobby in five minutes - I'm just going to freshen up." He waited for her to leave.  
  
Sam smiled, but was perplexed as to why he wasn't looking her in the eye. «What's he hiding?» She watched him remain idly on the bed. "I'll wait for you here," she gave a quick pause thinking of a reason, "I, uh, don't want to wake up Coop." She felt more than she heard him sigh.  
  
Bailey closed his eyes and assessed the situation. He knew she would see his state once he got up to go to the bathroom. "Okay. . ." He nodded. "I'm just going to take a quick shower," he laughed, "I'm sure my sweaty state isn't too pleasing."  
  
Sam laughed in agreement, but truth be told, his musky smell seemed to ignite a fire deep within her. She longed to trail her tongue across his salty skin, run her hands through his damp hair, see his glistening body, feel their bodies slip against each other. She finally gathered her thoughts. "Okay, I'll watch some TV. . ."  
  
Bailey took a deep breath, got up and walked briskly towards the bathroom. He stopped short when he heard her call his name and without thinking turned around to face her. "Yeah?" His eyes grew wide as he realized what he did, and turned back facing the door. He rolled his eyes at his 'discreet' manner. «Bravo.» He thought lamely to himself.  
  
"Don't be long, I'm really hungry." She saw him nod and retreat into the bathroom. Sam let out the breath she was holding. She know understood his odd behaviour since the massage; he normally stood to greet people yet he remained on the bed, she had also felt him shiver when her thigh came into contact with his leg. He *was* hiding something. . . he was aroused. Sam's eyes glazed over, as the thought of her turning him on began to sink in. She didn't know how long she was daydreaming, but she was awakened by his soothing voice close to her ear. She looked at him, sitting down on the bed, beside her.  
  
"Sam, you okay?" Bailey asked, caressing her face. Despite wanting to put a little distance between them, the recent fiasco almost cost him his best- friend, he couldn't keep his hands off of her.  
  
Sam leaned into his touch, and smiled as his ice-cold hand melted into her skin. «A cold shower, Malone?» She smiled ruefully, though feeling alive to bring him to that state. "Yeah, I seem to have a habit of zoning out, huh?"  
  
Bailey smiled and held out his hand. "You ready?"  
  
"Definitely." She looked at his large, inviting hand, and enjoyed the sensation of her warm hand in his cold one. The two agents proceeded to the elevator and Sam promised herself that she would come clean with him today at lunch. She smiled inwardly, hoping that the reaction she would get from Bailey, would be the one she had been forever dreaming of. 


	9. Of the Impulsive Kind

TITLE : Mummy Dearest  
  
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes )  
  
CATEGORY : SBR  
  
RATING : Strong strong R  
  
SPOILERS : Probably  
  
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.  
  
NOTES : It's been awhile, huh? Are there still SBR fans out there? big grin Sorry for the delay – blame my current addiction to CSI...  
  
Cheers!   
  
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 9. ----------------  
  
Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Glancing up, Bailey saw that the elevator still had another three floors to tend to before opening its doors to them. He kept a firm grasp on Sam's hand and smiled just a little, revelling in the comfort; aching to perform this very movement over and over again. His thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand, sending an affectionate message; one of protection and love.  
  
Sam glanced down at their intertwined hands and sighed contentedly. His grasp was so different than that of Coop's and she couldn't help but melt whenever he offered her his strong arms; giving her a moment to lose herself in his secure embrace. She closed her eyes – she needed to feel his chest against hers, his arms squeezing the air out of her...she felt her desire building, striking from her core to her heart.  
  
The elevator dinged, signalling its acceptance of boarding, and Bailey entered, holding the door open for Sam, while letting go of her hand. He waited for her to step in and pressed the ground floor button and stared ahead as the doors closed. He willed his libido in check; being so close to his desire and not being able to taste of her sweet skin was driving him insane. He was about to speak when his back came into contact with the wall and he felt her soft lips press against his.  
  
Sam couldn't explain what propelled her to take such a bold move, but she couldn't control herself anymore. She pushed him against the wall and attacked his mouth, craving him desperately. She gasped when she felt him respond, felt his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Her body now pressed flush against his, she drank in his scent, moaning when his tongue pushed past her lips and dove into her mouth. She felt his arousal press against her thigh and bucked her hips against his, telling him of her need for him when the loud 'ding' of the elevator caused them to quickly break apart.  
  
"Going up?" Nathan asked cheekily, stepping in with an equally grinning John.  
  
"Yes." Bailey deadpanned, staring straight ahead. The ride back to their floor was silent, and Bailey tried to sedate his heart beat, and calm his erratic breathing. Stepping off the elevator, he grabbed Sam by the hand and walked briskly to his room.  
  
Sam grinned at John and Nathan right before being carted away by her 'David'. She followed him into his room, closing the door behind her. The two just stood, staring at eachother; chests heaving, desires brewing and logic leaving.  
  
Outside the room, John and Nathan were making their way to their own respective chambers when they heard a loud bang coming from Bailey's room. "Should we...?" Nathan asked, inching towards the door.  
  
"No...angry and horny Bailey is NOT a good thing to deal with." John opened the door to their room and walked in, Nathan soon following.  
  
Back inside the room, Bailey pinned his blonde partner against the door, kissing her mouth with a frenzy of emotions. He moaned, feeling her draw his lower lip into her mouth, sucking fiercely until it bruised. He lifted her up with ease, her legs wrapping around his torso as he carried her to bed. "God Sam..." He breathed into her mouth.  
  
"Bail..." She moaned herself, as his hand found the swell of her breast.  
  
He placed her gently on the bed, slowly unbuttoning her blouse. His hands found either side of her, and glided down her waist all the way to her hips and back up, his fingers memorising the curves of her body. "Sam...Sam you're so beautiful." He kissed her lips, and journeyed down to her neck, his mouth branding her creamy skin. His tongue traced her collarbone, moving to reach her breastbone and stopping where her bra stood strong. He leaned back, kneeling on the bed and began to take off his shirt and pants.  
  
Sam took the opportunity to observe his manly physique. Her eyes roamed his well-developed chest as it came into view, and she reached a hand out, letting her hands glide down his smooth skin, save for a light dusting of hair. She let her hand travel downwards, fingers lightly dancing around his navel before feeling him, hard through his pants.  
  
Bailey tried not to move against her hand, but his carnal desires were soon in command of his actions. Throwing his shirt on the ground, he stepped out of his pants and boxers, standing naked before his beauty.  
  
"Oh Bailey..." Sam whispered, her eyes taking in his majestic body as she felt him near her again. She unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the side. Unbuckling her belt, he gently pulled her pants down, along with her panties. She raised her hips slightly, feeling the material hug her legs as it left. Holding out her arms, she closed her eyes, enjoying his weight over her body. Their mouths found eachother, intensely though dimming in aggressiveness.  
  
His hand found her centre, pleasing her, watching her writhe under his touch, while his other hand found the golden strands of her hair, letting his fingers thread through them. "I want you, Sam." He whispered, placing butterfly kisses near her earlobe. "I need you..." He trailed along her jaw, reaching her mouth, conveying his love.  
  
"Please..." She whimpered, arching into him. She pressed a hand to his arousal, stroking the length of him before guiding him in her. Both lovers held their breaths, enjoying the feeling as the barrier was finally crossed: no more wishing and hoping, no more fantasies and dreams, for reality finally reached both of them together, and each realised as their pinnacles were ascended to.  
  
"Stay with me, Sam." Bailey coaxed her, feeling his release begin. They peaked together, enjoying their bond and ultimate connection as the pleasuring ripples coursed through their bodies.  
  
Bailey collapsed on top of her, and she held him close; her hands running up and down his sweat-soaked back. "Bailey, that was..." Sam panted into his mouth, before she was cut off his searing kiss.  
  
"Good?" He smiled mischievously.  
  
"Great!" She echoed his look. They gazed into each other's eyes.  
  
"It was bound to happen, Sam." He offered. "The tension was becoming unbearable."  
  
She nodded, one hand brushing through his hair. Her lips sought his neck, wanting to return the favour, and she began to suck his skin, leaving wet kisses in its wake. She heard his baritone voice vibrate deep in his body as he groaned, moving to pick up his ringing cell-phone.  
  
He flipped their positions, so his body was now underneath hers. "Malone." His voice was calm, and he smiled at her, as his hand cupped her cheek, gently stroking near her mouth. He thanked Grace and hung up. "Grace just called, I think we may have a lead..." He said, standing up, taking her with him.  
  
"Bailey!" Sam giggled, trying to wrestle herself out of his grasp.  
  
"We have time for a quick shower, and then we're heading out." He slung her over his shoulder and headed towards the bathroom.

* * *

Comfort Inn, Brooklyn  
  
Nathan and John stood chatting, waiting for Bailey and Sam to join them downstairs. They spotted the pair getting off the elevator, and both pressed their lips together, to stifle their laughter.  
  
"Shut up." Bailey muttered, walking by, not even throwing them a glance.  
  
Sam broke out into a smile, and followed him, feeling her cheeks turn a rosy hue. Nathan and John threw a look, shrugged and jogged to meet up with the two.  
  
Sitting in the comfort of the car, Bailey left it in park. "Okay, Grace called me and I think I know why we couldn't locate Keri Yule." Bailey passed around her picture.  
  
Sam took the portrait of the woman, her eyes trailing over the natural beauty that emanated. She had intense green eyes, and light brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. There was this unmistakable symmetry that just attracted the eye. She frowned, passing the picture to Nathan.  
  
"The sample skin I managed to get a hold of, from the Museum..." Bailey began, looking at his team expectantly.  
  
John's eyes widened. "No..." He shook his head. "She was mummified?"  
  
Bailey nodded, disgusted. "Yeah..." He glanced back at the team. "Right now, Valerie Klunk is our main suspect."  
  
"What about the curator?" Sam asked, as she watched her boss key the ignition.  
  
"She might be an accessory..." He sighed, as they pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the museum, with a hope that their questions would be answered.  
  
--TBC-- 


End file.
